Dream Girl
by fan8225
Summary: Hermione leads a desperate search to find a cure for the curse that is slowly killing Harry. Does Draco Malfoy hold the answer? She's willing to do almost anything to find a cure for her friend, but is she willing to live in close quarters with her enemy?
1. Chapter 1

Hermione Grainger self consciously smoothed an imaginary wrinkle of the fabric on her navy blue robes for the third time in as many minutes

Hermione Granger self consciously smoothed an imaginary wrinkle of the fabric on her navy blue robes for the third time in as many minutes. She looked around the grand parlor of Malfoy manor. The walls gleamed with 24kt gold leaf and padded burgundy brocade lined the walls. Everything was trimmed in dark woods. The floors were a sheet of obsidian black marble so glossy that she was sure she could use it for a mirror if needed. The ceiling soared twenty feet above her, boasting a huge crystal chandelier that looked as delicate as a snowflake.

Every bit of décor screamed old money. Hermione and her mother had dabbled in antiques for fun, and as Hermione never dabbled in anything without thorough research, she was able to recognize that the Malfoys' had an incredible collection in this room alone.

She was sure the piece on the huge mantle was a rare Galle vase. Works of numerous famous painters hung on the walls. Including some of Draco's' ancestors expertly painted by her favorite painter Hans Holbein. Funny, she had always thought him muggle, but the enchanted paintings proved otherwise. She was also sure she had seen a small Rodin sculpture on a side table in the foyer.

She looked up to see the striking clear silver eyes that belonged to Draco Malfoy. He was smirking at her as if he could read how uncomfortable she felt, how awed she was by the magnificent palace-like manor. His long muscled legs were stretched gracefully out in front of him.

Clad in his trademark black, it seemed to Hermione that his silvery blond hair glowed in contrast. His smooth pale skin and square jawed angular features were more strikingly handsome than she remembered; reminding her that she hadn't seen him in nearly four years. Not since their seventh year at Hogwarts. The war had started just weeks after graduation and had lasted two grueling, horrific years, but it was over now. Harry had killed Voldemort and everything, it seemed then, would be fine.

Shaking off his smirk, Hermione squared her shoulders and willed herself to stop fidgeting. She focused, with effort, on the words that her colleague, Bill Weasley was speaking.

"So you see Mr. Malfoy, we are here to ask you to submit to a minimally invasive memory scan. We understand that you have stated you have no recollection of the battle in which Harry Potter received the curse that has debilitated him over time; however, we are asking everyone to undergo this memory probe. We believe it is the only way to ensure that nothing has been…blocked from ones memory…subconsciously of course."

"Tell me Mr. Weasley," Draco drawled "What happens if I prefer not to undergo this-'minimally invasive' procedure?" Draco's eyes looked unblinkingly across at Bill Weasley. The older man gave as good as he got, returning the stare with only the smallest tinge of pink suffusing his neck and ears.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy, if you choose not to comply with the ministries request, the ministry will summons you to ministry headquarters and a more invasive full memory scan. The full scan is the type that is usually reserved for hostile interrogation of witnesses and prisoners."

The two men regarded each other across the delicate antique occasional table for long moments.

"And I thought we were saved from the dictatorship that was Voldemort." Draco mused more to himself than Bill Weasley or Hermione.

It was a necessary injustice, Hermione reminded herself. She tamped down the twinge of guilt she felt. Anger at the situation rose in her and she bit her tongue. 'He should be glad to do something that might help Harry" she thought. It was invasive, to require Draco to allow the ministry access to his memories of the war, but damn if Harry hadn't sacrificed enough for everyone else. It was high time for someone else to do some sacrificing.

Finally she could contain herself no longer, "Bloody Hell, Malfoy, nobody _wants_ to skip around in your head. We just want to check to see if you have something, even an abbreviated memory of the curse that was cast on Harry. Until we can find out what curse he was hit with, we can't find the counter curse!"

Draco turned to regard her coolly a small humorless smile on his lips. "So the Profits' got it right for once? With Rita Skeeter being the new Editor-In-Chief, I never believe anything that rag prints anymore. 'The Golden Boy has been afflicted by Voldemort's last curse and has been deteriorating over the past two years'

Hermione glared back at him, refusing to speak anymore, she had already said more than enough.

"As I seem to have no choice," Draco spoke, his eyes still on Hermione, his voice dripping sarcasm "I suppose I acquiesce. Merlin knows I wouldn't wish anyone to think for a moment that I wouldn't want to help the famous Harry Potter at all costs. Lets get on with it Weasley, I want you done and out my head and my house as soon as possible. I have appearances to think of after all."

Bill Weasley pressed his lips together in exasperation. He'd never had to meet Draco Malfoy before. He'd taken Hermione's' description of his arrogance and snobbery with a grain of salt when she tried to warn him what they were in for when they came to Malfoy Manor today.

Bill had told Hermione to give the guy the benefit of the doubt. Even though he was the son of a Deatheater, he'd done his bit during the war and fought against Voldemort. She could see now that Bill was having a hard time remembering what he'd told her earlier.

Early on in the war, Draco had covertly switched sides. Neither Bill nor Hermione knew the details about what capacity he'd served during the war, few people did. But, at wars end, Alistair Moody had been a witness for Draco's loyalty to the Order. Moody had spoken on Draco's behalf in a special private session before the Wizengamot. Apparently the Wizengamot had agreed with Moody. He'd been acquitted of all charges and had actually been given some type of commendation, nobody but Malfoy really knew all the details, and he wasn't talking. Hermione had not been able to believe it, but Moody's staunch support of Draco had convinced her to try.

"If you will sit forward in your chair and maintain eye contact with me, we will begin."

"_You_, Granger?" Malfoy balked. "Oh, no, you're not getting into my head. Big Weasel here is bad enough but not you, absolutely not." Malfoy stood with his hands on his hips, his sneer firmly in place as he looked down at Hermione. Bill's face flushed scarlet now and he balled his fists at his sides.

"Watch you mouth Malfoy." He gritted thorough his teeth.

"It's OK, Bill." Hermione said her expression determined, placing a hand gently on Bills' forearm. "Draco here is an old classmate; he just likes to get digs in here and there for old times sake. Can you please switch places with me so I can sit across from Draco? It will be more comfortable that way.

"Didn't you hear me, Granger, I meant what I said. I'll not have some half trained, half baked, mud-" Draco's next words were cut off as Bills shot to his feet sending an ivory inlaid table toppling.

"Say it Malfoy! Say it and give me the excuse I'm looking for!" Bill raged indignant for the insult to Hermione. Bill was taller and more muscular than his baby brother, Ron. Malfoy was not as stout as Bill, but his leaner muscular build and was just as tall and the two men stood eye to eye glaring at each other.

"I don't want some…Muggle-born… trainee probing around in my mind testing to see if she's got her lessons right." Draco modified seamlessly as if Bill hadn't spoken at all. He arched an aristocratic eyebrow at Bill and resumed his same bored, half reclined position on the winged chair.

"For your information, Malfoy, Ms. Granger here is the best Legilimens the ministry has. She's trained the last four years exclusively with Iriac Misrioka, the famous Thai Legilimens.

Draco sat quietly across from Hermione regarding her with an inscrutable expression. Hermione made her expression go blank and looked back at him just as intently.

Finally after several moments Draco narrowed his clear grey gaze at her almost imperceptibly. Hermione knew from her years of training at reading the nuances of facial expressions that he had made his decision and she waited to hear what it was.

"OK then, Granger. Do your best, but no wandering, I am after all" Draco drawled, "a gentleman." Hermione flushed slightly at the meaningful look in his eyes but ignored his attempt to fluster her.

She would need all of her focus and concentration to perform occlumency. She asked Bill to lower the lights to which Draco snapped his fingers. A tiny wisp of a house elf appeared immediately. Draco commanded her to lower the lights and the tiny elf did so magically then backed out of the room bowing and shaking with nervous fright.

Hermione had to take several deep breaths to calm herself as her anger flared. The poor elf looked positively malnourished. Its fragile bones stuck out beneath its dusky skin in sharp points beneath her black tea towel. The condition of the poor creature made her blood boil. She flashed a glare at Draco who smirked at her, correctly guessing the cause of her anger. Shaking herself mentally she refocused.

Propping herself on the edge of an ottoman she sat knee to knee with Draco.

"Please maintain eye contact with me, Mr. Malfoy."

Liquid silver eyes locked with golden brown and just as Draco smirked and opened his mouth to speak again Hermione raised her wand and arching it deftly in the air whispering "Legilimens!"

She tumbled head first into the silver pools of Draco's eyes just as they widened in surprise. She found herself in a black void of a room crowded with doors of every shape, size and material. Knowing what she was looking for she immediately raised her had to summon the doors that were made of metal and heavily locked and armored.

More than fifty doors all heavily fortified glided forward. Hermione quickly counted the number of doors in surprise. These doors were Malfoy's subconscious attempts at defending his darkest and most disturbing memories, both from himself and others.

Hermione knew that each door contained a disturbing memory. The more heavily locked and secured the door, the more disturbing the memory. These were the thoughts that were most painful for Malfoy to dwell upon or to remember.

Most people usually had fewer than ten such doors unless they had been subject to extreme hardship, abuse or as she suspected in Malfoy's case, war.

'Lots of hang-ups and deep dark secrets, eh Malfoy' She smirked to herself. She was surprised when she stepped forward to the first door only to have several smaller, less sturdy doors rush to surround it.

Usually, as long as eye contact was maintained, breaking through the door to the protected memory was the most difficult part of her work. She had only experienced secondary protection of memories, such as Draco was exhibiting while practicing legilimency on subjects with advanced levels of skill at occlumency.

Malfoy was actually subconsciously causing the other, less painful, less guarded memories to jump before her. He was, in effect, offering her other, less disturbing memories in hopes that they would distract her from her chosen target.

She knew Malfoy was accomplished at occumency in his own right. He had reportedly been tutored in the subject by his godfather, Severus Snape and she had, in fact expected it to be more difficult to break through the heavily guarded memories his mind contained because of his training. This diversionary tactic, however, put a new twist on things. Undaunted, Hermione continued.

'OK' she thought, looking at the weak doors in front of her. 'If you want me to see these memories instead, I'll bite.'

A small wooden door stood directly in front of her. She reached forward and turned the knob which, as she suspected turned freely as it was unlocked. Whatever was behind this door, Draco was perfectly willing to allow Hermione to see it.

She found herself in a corridor that was eerily familiar. She knew this place. In a few seconds, it dawned on her. It was a dungeon corridor at Hogwarts. She was standing before a group of what looked like fourth year students in front of the door to Professor Snapes' potions classroom and she was feeling strangely exhilarated, happy yet angry at the same time. She was looking thorough eyes from someone else's perspective. Professor Snape came into view.

"But, Professor!" Harry Potter exclaimed.

His voice irritated her, grated on her nerves. 'Stop whining!' She thought as she turned to see Potter, his face flushed with rage.

"Look what he's done to Hermione!" as Potter spoke Hermione was shocked to see him point to his left. Standing there hunched over, clutching her books to her chest with a barley tamed mane of auburn hair was a 14-year old copy of herself. As she looked at her 14-year old self through Draco Malloy's eyes, the girl she used to be raised her head and Hermione felt sick and elated at the same time.

The young Hermione raised her head, her books clutched to her chest and her face awash with tears. Two huge magically enlarged front teeth protruded past her chin, giving her the odd appearance of a half beaver, half girl.

From her vantage point of Draco's' perspective, Hermione was horrified to see Professor Snipe give Draco a brief, almost imperceptible wink before he pursed his lips as if trying not to smile saying flatly,

"I see no difference."

As she watched a humiliated 14-year old Hermione flee down the corridor, rage battled against mirth. Hermione realized with a shock that she was actually feeling Malfoy's feelings; his emotions during the time of the memory were intermingling with her own.

This was all wrong. She was supposed to be able to see his reactions and view the memory, but never before had she actually felt the emotions of the subject.

She whispered "fimale" and found herself in the door filled antechamber of memories, the door she had entered with the memory of the day Malfoy had cast a spell that made her teeth grow into monstrous tusks closed again.

No wonder that door had been forced forward and not even locked. Malfoy was playing games with her. He was a much more accomplished occlumense then she had given him credit for.

She would have to venture forward very carefully. Again she waved her hand and the fifty most heavily fortified doors flew to the front of the room in front of her. Again she stepped up to the door with the heaviest looking barriers and as before several easy access doors flew before it.

Hermione, this time taking extra time to prepare herself mentally again took the bait and walked into a door that she merely had to "Alohamora" to get open.

She instantly found herself in a dimly lit bedroom. Her cheeks flooded with color. Luckily, instead of seeing the memory through Malfoy's' actual eyes, she stood by the door, able to distance herself from the couple entwined in and on the sheets of the bed. Malfoy was arching his hips slamming forcefully into the curvaceous blond haired witch beneath him. The beautiful witch sighed through parted red, swollen lips and moaned his name over and over.

The muscles in Malfoy's back bunched and rippled with coiled power as he thrust rapidly into the witch, who, was now wrapping her long slender legs around his waist and meeting his thrusts lustily.

_See something you like, Granger?_ Malfoy's low chuckle filled her head. The words ran across her mind. Hermione gasped and started. It was more of a feeling than an actual thought, but Hermione knew instantly that it was not her own. He knew exactly what he was doing. This was not Malfoy's' subconscious she was dealing with. He was fully aware of everything she was seeing in his supposedly subconscious mind.

Hermione whispered "fimale" again and found herself in the black space surrounded by doors. She waved her hand again and again the heavily fortified doors appeared before her.

Feeling her frustration mounting Hermione took a moment to refocus before deciding how to continue. "What else have you got Malfoy?" she said aloud. This time when the flimsy doors appeared before her she choose one that was off to the side, not directly in front of her.

She immediately found herself looking into a train compartment. She was on the Hogwarts Express. The compartment was empty save for two people. Malfoy stood above Harry, who was lying oddly motionless on the floor of the compartment. Malfoy had obviously used pertrificus totalus on Harry and with a sickening feeling Hermione realized what was to come, because Harry had told her exactly what happened.

Harry stared up with malice at Malfoy. Then quite slowly, very deliberately, Malfoy lifted his foot and stomped down on Harry's face, crushing his nose and sending his glasses flying. Thick red blood oozed out of Harry's face as a smirking Malfoy bent down and whispered something she couldn't hear in Harry's ear, then after flinging the invisibility cloak over Harry, Malfoy exited the compartment closing the door firmly behind himself leaving a seemingly empty compartment behind.

Outrage engulfed Hermione as she shouted the exiting incantation again to return to the antechamber filled with doors.

Raising one hand in a fury, she arched her wand around her. A vortex of blurred colors surrounded her like a windless tornado. Keeping her hand aloft, she stepped toward the heavy metal door closest to her and placed her left hand upon it. 'Enough games, Malfoy.' She thought.

The weaker doors surrounded her again and tried to jump before the door she had chosen as before, but the vortex shield she had created kept them at bay as she had intended.

"Linguistia!" She said and then she spoke to the door, slowly, clearly and comfortingly in Draco Malfoy's own voice.

"Onvidimas Barrage" she murmured. The door made a grating sound and cracked open, light spilled out and just as it started to slam shut again Hermione connected with her physical body. As she stepped though the door in Malfoy's mind she grasped his hand in real life. Malfoy's' body twitched in surprise, as did his mind. In the second of surprise Hermione was able to link to his mind beneath his defenses. She slid through the Heavy door and she was in. What she had done was a long shot, but she'd had to severe Malfoy's' concentration. And it worked she was inside Draco Malfoy's darkest most secret memories.


	2. Chapter 2

Ch 2

Disclaimer: JKR owns everything. I just like to play with it!

What felt like several hours later, Hermione was feeling exhausted. She could feel her physical body weakening, making it more difficult to continue to maintain the focus required to perform the legilimency. She had viewed many horrors in Malfoy's mind. Images of war, savage acts he'd witnessed and the terrible abusive relationship his mother and father had had. Hermione respected his privacy as much as possible. Any memories she entered that showed Malfoy at an age where he was obviously younger than he was two years ago she left immediately.

She had been too stunned, however to leave the first memory she had entered. She had found herself in the dining room of Malfoy manor confronted with the image of Lucious Malfoy slapping his wife Narcissa repeatedly as he berated her in an oddly calm and quiet voice.

When she fell to the ground sobbing he'd knelt down beside her to haul her up by her silvery blonde hair. "How dare you! How dare you? Do you think my son will ever be associated with that muggle-loving sister of yours again? If you even so much as think of taking my son near that filthy blood traitor again I'll kill you myself." His words were punctuated by merciless slaps.

Hermione stood transfixed with dismay realizing that Lucious had to be referring to Tonks' mother, Andromeda. Andromeda was Narcissas' sister and married to muggle. A movement glinted in the corner of her eye. She turned her head and saw a young Draco; no more than five years old crouched beneath the dining table watching from between the carved wooden spindles of the dining table chairs as his father beat his mother. His face was wet with tears and he had his hand clamped over his mouth to muffle his sobs. Hermione had fled that memory and quickly exited any subsequent memories that involved Malfoy's childhood though she was sure they all had a similar theme. Lucious Malfoy beat both his son and his wife savagly for any transgression of what he deemed to be family honor.

The memory she was looking for would be of the final battle. She had to focus on that now for Harry's sake. It would contain a nineteen year old Malfoy and Voldemort in a battle in a forest. After searching all of the heavily locked doors Hermione had to conclude that the memory was not there, not, at least as a heavily guarded memory anyway. One thing was for certain, Malfoy was not deliberately trying to hide that memory. It would have defiantly been behind one of the heavily secured doors if he was.

.

The several thousand other memories behind less secure doors contained the memories of his lifetime. It would be impossible for her to search them all without repeated sessions over several months. Hermione was sure that Malfoy would never consent to her searching every memory in his head. She also knew that Harry didn't have several months to wait.

The curse he'd received from Voldemort in the final battle had seemed superficial at first. A long jagged ten inch gash across his chest. The healers had cleaned and closed the wound magically leaving no scar at all in moments upon his arrival to St. Mangos and everything seemed fine. Three months later the wound spontaneously reappeared, bleeding profusely and as livid as if it were three months old and had never been healed. The healers were perplexed, but again they healed the wound. Ten weeks later the same thing happened again. It happened again and again, each time reopening. Each time the wound was becoming increasingly difficult to heal with less time passing before it reappeared.

As things stood now Harry only and one week between the wounds reappearance and it

took several hours of spell work to heal instead of moments. Harry was constantly weak from blood loss and the energy it took to repeatedly undergo the magically accelerated healing process. Hermione and Ron and everyone around Harry knew that if this continued he would be dead in a few months time. She had to find a cure. The most problematic part of the cure was that nobody knew what curse Voldemort had used to create the gash on Harry's chest.

Every person that had been in the forest to witness the fight between Harry and Voldemort was either dead or had been fighting so furiously during the battle that they had not had time to stop and take notice of the two wizards locked in combat. Everyone still alive that had been present that dark night had been memory scanned in the case that they saw something and just didn't remember it. Malfoy was the last person remaining before they would have to give up their best hope of finding a cure and focus solely on to the library of dark spells and hope for blind luck.

Hermione fought back tears of bitter frustration. She was exhausted, her concentration was faltering and she knew it was hopeless. "Finite Incantatum" She murmured and felt herself fall backward into her seat on the ottoman. The room swam before her as Malfoy snatched his had out of her grasp. Hermione would have toppled over in exhaustion if Bill Weasley hadn't caught her around her shoulders to steady her. He gave her some water and after a few moments she felt the room stop spinning and was able to sit without help. The clock on the mantle indicated that it had been over an hour since she cast the spell on Malfoy.

Malfoy had risen to stand with his back to them, looking out of the huge beveled glass panels of the French doors onto the fountain and gardens beyond.

"See anything you liked Granger?' He asked causing Hermione to flush as she recalled the image of Malfoy with the blonde witch. He turned to her smiling and she couldn't help but spit back, "Nothing to my taste, Mr. Malfoy and more importantly, nothing that will help Harry Potter."

"Dear me, and after that grand brush off you gave Weasel King last month, I'd have thought you'd sworn off gingers, but now that it looks like Potty won't pull thorough I guess you need a back up plan." His smirk was replaced by a knowing look as he flicked his eyes over her shoulder to the red hair and tall frame of Bill Weasley who kept one hand on her shoulder as if he was afraid she would sway again.

Hermione's mouth dropped open in shock. Bill's hand tightened almost painfully on her shoulder as he took a step toward Malfoy.

"Bill," Hermione almost shouted. "Could you please give Mr. Malfoy and I a moment alone?" Bill raised his eyebrows at her as if to ask her if she was sure she knew what she was doing. Hermione nodded to him and, his face still flushed with anger, he turned and gave Malfoy a warning look before he left the room, closing the massive doors behind him.

"How do you know about Ron and I splitting up? The newspapers haven't covered it; Ron's family didn't let you in on that secret. Have you been spying on me or something?" Outraged that Malfoy would so casually bring up something that private gave Hermione pause. She stood and stalked over to within feet of Malfoy.

"Well, Granger, if I'd have known you were going to get so upset, I wouldn't have looked in half so many memories as I did."

"You WHAT!" Hermione exclaimed.

Malfoy examined his fingernails in a bored fashion, but Hermione saw the glint of triumph in his eye at her outburst.

"You think you can go gallivanting in my head, forcing your way in where you don't belong and lock me out while you explore and I would wait idly and do nothing? I am better at occlumency than Legilimency, Granger, but I can still do either. You should have remembered that before you made eye contact with me then pushed me out of my own brain. I got bored… So, I had a look around your head while you where busy in mine.

Hermione blanched white. How could she have opened herself up to this? Malfoy had fought her tooth and nail when she first entered his head, but then when she had made contact with his hand, his entire resistance to her intrusion and disappeared. She should have suspected something, but she was too preoccupied with her search to be concerned with where he'd gone and what he might be doing. Hermione was furious with herself for allowing Malfoy to get one over on her.

Malfoy looked at her, his smirk didn't quite reach his eyes and his expression was somehow haunted. His voice was flat as he spoke, neither mocking nor sarcastic.

"Not so 'minimally invasive' now is it Granger?"

Hermione looked daggers at him but did not trust herself to speak. She turned on her heel and stalked out of the room, down the long wide hallway and was almost to Bill who was standing in the front foyer before she heard the tiny squeaking house elf calling after her.

"Missus has forgotten her cloak!" The same tiny elf as had turned off the lights for Malfoy early was struggling to carry her cloak without any part of it touching the glossy black floor. Hermione smiled at the little elf and bent low to retrieve it.

"Thank you so much! I would have been lost without this!" Hermione knew that house elves found the highest pleasure in being useful, so she fawned over how glad she was the elf had been of service to her. The elf blushed and grinned showing a surprisingly pristine row of even white teeth.

"Chunky is glad to be of help to the missus. Chunky is not wanting the missus to go without her cloak." Hermione smiled at the elf's name, which was obviously an oxymoron as the elf was as so thin and tiny she looked like she would keel over in a strong wind.

"Well thank you again Chunky, I hope to see you again sometime."

"Oh, Chunky is hoping the missus will come back. The master is needing a young lady like the missus to help him. Chunky has tried, but she can't stop the horses at night." Chunky's large blue eyes filled with tears that ran down her face in rivulets.

"Oh, Chunky, please don't cry." But it was too late. The elf's tiny frame was shaking with the force of her tears. Hermione was perplexed as to what the tiny elf could be on about.

"N-no matter what C-chunky does she c-c-can't stop the h-h-horses. And her master is tortured in his sleep by He-Who-must-not-be-named and Chunky can't keep the n-n-night horses away.

"Night horses?" Hermione murmured.

"And the master is crying out at He-W-ho-Must-Not-Be-Named. He is yelling, 'Harry watch out!' and he is saying it over and over again and the horses is coming every night now, no matter what kind of sleeping draught or spell Chunky is trying. She is not helping her master. She is failing him."

"Chunky," Hermione whispered softly touching the elf on her shoulder "Do you mean nightmares? Is Master Malfoy having bad dreams?"

"Y-yesss!" Gulped Chunky. Her frail chest rising and falling swiftly between sobs.

"Chunky, don't you worry. I'm going to do everything I can to help Master Malfoy."

Chunky's sobbing ebbed and she looked up at Hermione with worshipful eyes.

"Oh, missus would have Chunky's gratitude forever if she could stop the horses."

Chunky threw herself at Hermione, wrapping her arms in a surprisingly firm embrace. After several minutes of reassurance Hermione was able to extricate herself from Chunky and exit the Manor with Bill, who had only heard part of the conversation between Chunky and herself and was looking completely confused.

"Never mind Bill, I'll explain on the way." Hermione said when he enquired what was going on. "I think we may just have stumbled on to our biggest break so far, we've got a lot of work to do!"


	3. Chapter 3

Six hours later Hermione knocked on the massive double front doors of Malfoy Manor for the second time that day

Six hours later Hermione knocked on the massive double front doors of Malfoy Manor for the second time that day. She took a deep calming breath and tried to make herself relax. Draco Malfoy was not going to be happy to see her again and she knew it. In an attempt to look less confrontational, she had changed from the official ministry robes she'd worn earlier to denim jeans and a long sleeved black cotton tee shirt.

The massive doors swung open and Hermione was able to let out the breath she was holding when she saw who had answered the door.

"Missus has come back!" Squeaked Chunky. "She threw herself at Hermione's legs again and hugged her fiercely."

"Yes, Chunky, I am back. Is Mr. Malfoy at home?"

"Oh, yes missus. He is just having his supper. Please, come this way. Chunky is taking missus to the Master."

Hermione had to remember that Chunky idolized Malfoy so she was careful to show respect for him.

"Chunky," Hermione bent down to speak to the elf "I would like to ask you a favor first. I would like it very much if you didn't tell Mr. Malfoy that I know about the nightmares, ah, the night horses. OK? I think I can help him better if he doesn't think I know about the dreams."

Chunky looked up at Hermione as if deep in thought. She blinked her huge blue eyes and then, slowly, solemnly nodded her head.

"Chunky is doing anything, anything to help the Master, Missus. I's not telling him that you knows about the horses at night and you's helping my Master so he can sleep."

Hermione was now satisfied that both she and Chunky were on the same page and let the elf usher her into the massive dining room. The room was long with three chandeliers twinkling above on vaulted ceiling. It was one of the most ornate rooms Hermione had ever entered. A heavy rectangular wooden dining table dominated the center of the room.

A huge six foot tall fireplace was on the right hand wall, while the left wall that faced it was all stained glass window panels. Hermione imagined how spectacular the room would look with the light from the evening sunset illumining the stained-glass panels.

The sun was down now and the room was lit only by the roaring fireplace and by multiple sets of candelabras gathered at the far end of the table. There sat the one and only occupant of a table that Hermione surmised could seat fifty.

Draco Malfoy leaned back in his armed chair. He was oblivious to her presence and he sat staring off into space his mind clearly elsewhere. Without his trademark smirk, Hermione almost felt sorry for him. He looked so, alone sitting there at the mammoth table.

His meal sat before him untouched, and he twirled the stem of his wine glass in his right hand. While she had noted earlier that day that he was taller and more muscular, she had not noted the dark smudges under his eyes and the pallor of his skin. Despite the fact that Draco Malfoy was undeniable very attractive, he looked like hell.

Hermione remembered what Chunky had just said, 'you's helping my master so he can sleep, finally sleep.' If Malfoy was having horrible dreams every night it was no wonder he looked like he hadn't slept in days.

Chunky announced Hermione as they neared Draco. His head shot up, his features were instantly schooled back into a sneer of condescension.

"Well, well Granger. I see you _did_ see something you liked. You didn't waste any time getting back here."

Before he could say more, Hermione dropped a folded envelope onto the table next to his plate.

"What's this?" He frowned. Just as he was reaching for the letter it flew into the air between him and Hermione and began speaking, its flap forming a mouth as the voice of Mr. Weasley boomed out, filling the silent room.

"_Dear Mr. Malfoy, It has come to our attention that you may have a subconscious memory of the curse which is currently threatening the health of Harry Potter. The ministry feels and it is my personal wish that you work with Miss Hermione Granger to discover fully every detail of this suppressed memory. _

_I am sure you have space at Malfoy Manor to host Miss Granger as your guest for the next few weeks. We here at the ministry are willing to make any sacrifice to aid in breaking the curse placed on Mr. Potter. As you well know, we wizards and witches owe so much to his brave actions during the war. I am sure, Mr. Malfoy that you understand how important this matter is to me both professionally as the Minister of Magic and personally, as Harry's father in law. _

_Now, Miss Granger feels that you may have some reservations about cooperating with the location of this memory, but I have assured her that you will do everything in your power to aid her, either from the comfort of your own lovely home, or from a facility managed by the Ministry of Magic. You will cooperate fully Mr. Malfoy. Have a pleasant evening"_

Draco watched as the letter refolded itself and glided to the table again. His eyes rose to Hermione's his expression would be, to most people, unreadable. Hermione held her breath and waited for the explosion of temper. It never came. Instead Malfoy kept his silvery grey eyes on hers as he gracefully gestured for her to be seated.

Chunky ran to pull her chair out and with a soft word of thanks to the elf, Hermione sat. Malfoy wiped his mouth on his crisp white linen napkin and laid it on the glossy table without taking his eyes of off hers.

By degrees Hermione began to realize that he was angry. Angrier, she surmised than he had been in a long time. His cheeks that had moments ago been deathly pale were now suffused with a tinge of pink. He was so angry that he was using these long moments of silence to compose himself. Hermione found the silence disconcerting.

Years ago when they were students at Hogwarts it was easy to know exactly what Malfoy was feeling or thinking because it was written all over his face. He would explode with rage when he was angry like a small child having a temper tantrum. The years had certainly taught Malfoy control. She wondered just how much.

Unable to stand the silence any longer, Hermione spoke.

"Look Malfoy, I know having me here is the last thing you want-"

"You have no idea what I want, Granger." Malfoy spat, his voice full of venom. "And it is quite obvious that you don't care. Your only concern is your precious Potter. I have business to attend to. The elf will show you to your rooms." He stood abruptly and turned to leave.

"Business, Malfoy? It's getting late, and as the bulk of my work will be done at night, perhaps you could spare a few moments of your time so that I can tell you just what it is that I intend to do while I'm here."

Malfoy stopped at the door of the dining room and turned to look at her. His casual stance with one hand in his trouser pocket belied the irritation that radiated from him.

"Granger," he ground out, with repressed aggravation, "I can't stop you from being here. Apparently for once, you have friends in high places, so I'll just have to deal with your supremely annoying and unwanted presence.

"If you need to work at night, so much the better for us both. Hopefully, I'll see that much less of you. Do what you need to do then get out. When you need me let me know, but until then, leave me the hell alone. As I said before, the elf will show you to your rooms and get you whatever you need. Don't bother me unless you absolutely have to, I have little patience for dealing with your kind as it is."

With that, Malfoy turned on his heel and left the room. Moments later, Chunky appeared to clear away Malfoy's untouched plate and place a feast before Hermione.

The elf had certainly outdone herself and Hermione realized she was starving. She had spent the last six hours since she and Bill had left the manor planning, researching and begging Author Weasley, the newly elected minister of Magic for jurisdiction and permission to work exclusively at Malfoy Manor. She hadn't eaten all day and she attacked the meal gratefully.

As she ate, she again looked around the grand, imposing room. It was beautiful but very formal. She wondered why Malfoy would sit in such a formal room to eat alone. Surely a house like this had a cozy kitchen or small breakfast room, something less formal for dining alone. When Chunky returned to clear away the dinner things and show her to her room she asked the elf about it.

"Master always eats dinner in the dining room missus." The elf looked supremely sad for a moment before her face brightened with a smile for Hermione, "But now missus is here to keep Master company. Master is needing a friend and Chunky is liking missus. Soooo pretty, soooo kind. Chunky hopes missus is staying at Malfoy Manor forever."

'Not bloody likely.' Hermione thought to herself, but aloud to the elf she said, "Chunky, there is no need to call me Miss. Please, I would really like for you to call me Hermione."

"Ah, yes, missus. Missus Hermeni, as you likes missus."

"Chunky, I'll need a room close to Master Malfoy's' please, I have to be close to help with the nightmares."

"Yes, Missus Hermeni, Chunky was thinking you was wanting a room by the Master." If Hermione didn't know any better she would have sworn she saw a twinkle in the frail elf's blue eye. Chunky led Hermione up a magnificent wide staircase to the second floor. The dense carpet silenced any sounds of footfalls. The Malfoy ancestors whispered excitedly and rushed from frame to frame along the richly decorated hallway, following Hermione as the elf led her to her rooms.

Hermione was speechless when the elf led her into an elegant suite of rooms near the end of the hall. Although the rooms were elegant, they were as far from what Hermione had seen from the rest of the house as night was from day.

The sitting room was furnished with dark wooden furniture, but instead of the heavy gothic feeling of the rest of the house, everything was light and delicate. The colors on the walls were warm and soothing, instead of bold or striking. The adjoining bedroom was simple and uncluttered. The bedding was of crisp white linen and fluffy white down and the thick carpet was a rich cocoa brown. A fire crackled merrily in the normal sized fireplace. Hermione instantly loved it. It was actually cozy where the rest of the house just felt imposing and formal.

Before Chunky left her to make herself comfortable, Hermione asked the elf to inform her when Malfoy requested his sleeping potion that night. Chunky nodded her comprehension conspiratorially and disapperated.

Further inspection of the room led to the discovery of a bathroom off of the bedroom. The entire space reminded Hermione of the spa at the Ritz Carlton that her mother had taken her to for some mother-daughter bonding. Within the bathroom was a massive closet worthy of any Hollywood diva.

Hermione sighed and magiked her suitcase to its full size after removing it from her purse. She unpacked and hung and folded her things in the appropriate spaces before she decided to take a long hot bath.

When she emerged feeling relaxed she donned cotton pajama bottoms and a ribbed tank top then sat down to magically dry and brush out her hair.

It had taken several years to master, but Hermione had finally created the exact wand technique to get her hair to lay in glossy waves down her back. She usually kept it in a tight bun when she was working, but a home she liked nothing better than to let her hair down, literally and figuratively.

Hermione frowned at her image in the mirror. She wasn't at home, so perhaps a compromise was in order. She pulled her hair back into one long pony tail with a muggle scrunchy and smiled in satisfaction.

She grabbed the new book she had been reading in the bathtub, "Modern Legilimency; In the Minds Eye" and headed to the cushy looking chair near the fireplace. Just as she was about to sit down a loud crack sounded and Chunky appeared before her.

"Missus Hermeni asked Chunky to inform her when the Master requested his sleeping potion. So Chunky is here."

Chunky was holding a steaming crystal goblet that held a heavily gilded "M" on the front.

"Thank you Chunky." Hermione said, taking the goblet from the elf and picking up a purple capsule from her small purse. "If you will show me to Master Malfoy's rooms, I will bring it to him."

Chunky hesitated for moment, and then walked over to a door that looked like part of the sitting room wall. She knocked three times, and then pushed the door open.

Hermione followed her through the doorway and found herself in Draco Malfoy's rooms. They were obviously decorated to reflect the status of the occupant, the Lord of the Manor. The rich furnishing and dark paneling echoed the rest of the formal rooms of the house.

Malfoy was sitting in a dark leather wingback chair before another huge fireplace. He looked just as he had hours earlier; except he had removed his robes and looked a bit less formal in his shirt sleeves and black trousers. He was staring into the fire and looked up to see the two who had entered his room. For a moment he looked confused to see Hermione, then comprehension and anger dawned on his features. He looked back towards the door they had entered through. For some reason his anger seemed to vanish and he heaved a sigh and rose to his feet, swaying slightly, Hermione noted as she spotted the half empty bottle of bourbon on a small table by the chair.

"Granger, again. Well, what now." His tone was short and clipped, but he appeared too exhausted to muster up the outrage she had expected. 'He really must be suffering from sleep deprivation.' Hermione thought.

"I have come to put the tracer on your sleeping potion." His clouded eyes locked with hers. They reminded Hermione of steel as they narrowed, daring her to look away. "I wanted to inform you of it earlier, but, you were a bit too busy to discuss the particulars then." Hermione explained a bit defensively. She didn't know why she was feeling pangs of guilt for what she was doing. It was the only way to help Harry.

"This memory tracer will signal when your body is actually reliving memories during sleep as opposed to dreaming. Any dream memories will trigger a tracer on my wand that will summon me to you. I will use legilimency while you sleep to record these memories. Hopefully, one of them will contain the memory of the curse we are looking for."

Draco clenched his jaw several times as he looked at her, then scrubbing his hands down his face he turned bloodshot eyes to her and held out his hand for the goblet. She dropped the tracer tablet into it. It immediately fizzed and disintegrated. Hermione handed the crystal goblet to Malfoy. He walked over to sit it on a small table and barked to the elf.

"Leave us." Hermione was perplexed for a fraction of a second until she heard the tiny footfalls of Chunky as she exited the room. She was alone with Draco Malfoy in his bedroom.

Draco stalked back over to her slowly, his fatigue apparently put on hold. A small menacing smile was on his lips as he stopped, inches from her. He was so close she could feel the anger and something else she couldn't name that radiated from him.

"My, my you certainly have gone through a lot of trouble to be here with me tonight, Granger." He said, reaching out to trail an elegantly tapered finger down her bare arm.

"If you fancied me, all you had to do was say so."

Hermione opened her mouth to issue a biting reply when she was silenced by his mouth.

His arms went around her, crushing her body coarsely to his. Hermione stood still in shock for a moment as his tongue drove into her mouth.

Her heart skidded to a halt and heat suffused her abdomen, then without thinking she was kissing him back, her hands around his neck at the hair at his nape, which was surprisingly fine and soft. After several moments she felt the heat of his hands on her bare skin. Malfoy's hands were cupping her bum under her pants as he ground against her. She felt his hard arousal against her pelvis and alarm bells went off. She felt like she had been doused with ice water.

She brought her hands forward to his chest and shoved him back from her. His heavy lidded eyes didn't register shock or surprise and despite the half empty bottle on the table by his chair, Hermione had the impression that he was not at all intoxicated. He scoffed at her wide eyed look of surprise and grabbed the goblet of sleep potion containing the tracer from the table where Hermione had placed it.

He took it and drank it all in a few long swallows. When he was finished, he turned and hurled the crystal goblet into the fireplace where it smashed on the bricks behind the flames. He turned to glare at her again and his grey eyes were dark with hostility and bitterness. Sneering he turned and began unbuttoning his shirt as he walked toward his bedroom.

Hermione fairly flew back out of the room thru the door she had used to enter. Chunky was waiting for her, her great blue eyes round with fright; Hermione's were not much different. Taking several calming breaths Hermione tried to reassure the elf that she knew exactly what she was doing and everything would be alright. After several moments Chunky left and Hermione returned to her chair by the fire, her wand across her lap. Her thoughts whirled and she fought to regain her composure. How could she have let this happen? She would have to set Malfoy straight in the morning. This couldn't happen again.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Hermione woke with a start. She looked around herself groggily confused at the unfamiliar surroundings, then she heard a muffled shout and sat bolt upright in bed. She reached for her wand under her pillow. It was warm to the touch and glowing blue. She rushed out of bed and was through the hidden doorway into Malfoy's room in a thrice.

She sprinted across the sitting room and into his bedroom. The room was cast into shadows by the flames of the fireplace. Hermione could see Malfoy on his massive carved bed, thrashing around and muttering in his sleep. Hermione quickly knelt by his bed, grasped his right hand and whispered, "Legilimens!"

She felt like Malfoy's hand pulled her through a wall and into the dining room of the manor. But this time it was not a solo Draco who sat at the table. This time Voldemort himself sat at the head of the table and more than thirty Death eaters were being entertained at what looked like Voldemort's sick version of a dinner party.

Draco sat almost to the far end of the table, his plate of food appeared untouched. The casual sneer she was so used to was no where in sight. He looked very pale, almost grey. He kept darting his eyes around the room, but, Hermione noted was careful not to catch anyone's eye or enter into conversation with either of the older men on either side of him.

Hermione was aghast at the cool civility of the dinner guests seated at the table. They chatted and exchanged pleasantries amongst themselves, between turning their attention to the seven muggles who were being methodically tortured at the head of the table by Voldemort. They laughed and jeered as they watched their Lord's sick version of entertainment.

The muggles were bound and suspended in mid air against the rear wall. Their eyes darted frantically around the room, their mouths calling out silently for help. Voldemort waved his wand every now and then to bring one of the captives floating forward for his entertainment.

He looked like a biologist performing an experiment on an insect as he cast different curses on his victims. His red eyes were inquisitive and engrossed in every voiceless scream and every spasm of agony that his quarry exhibited.

Sometimes his grimace-like smile appeared after a particular reaction and he would repeat the curse to see the result again and again until he grew weary of it and moved on to the next curse. When a victim became too weak to respond dramatically or, more usually, passed out from the pain and horror inflicted upon him, Voldemort would summon another captive.

After what felt like forever, Hermione realized that the dream was repeating like a video, the same events she had already seen. It was not the dream memory she was looking for. It was time to exit the memory.

Hermione gripped Draco's hand tightly and pulled as she focused. She tumbled back onto the warm sand of a long stretch of silvery beach at midday. The sun shone brilliantly on the water. The smell of ocean and sea spray surrounded them. Malfoy lay in the sand next to her, his hand still clutched in hers. Malfoy slowly opened his eyes and rose to a sitting position.

The dream Draco looked less, pale, less drawn than the actual one. He sat up and looked at Hermione, his brow furrowed in confusion, clearly wondering at the abrupt change from the horrific dinner party to the bright sunny beach with sea gulls looping overhead in lazy circles.

She looked at him and smiled ruefully before she consciously released his hand.

Hermione opened her eyes to find herself still kneeling at Malfoy's bedside. He was still asleep, but his brow was smooth and the hint of a smile hovered around his mouth as his slow even breathing convinced Hermione that he had remained in the beach dream that she had placed him in. Arrogant pratt that he was, she still couldn't bear to leave him in that memory dream with Voldemort's never ending dinner party of horror.

Repeating dreams didn't just repeat once in an evening, but usually the dream would continue the entire night like a DVD on repeat play. As it was not the dream of Voldemort and Harry fighting in the forest, Hermione saw no reason why she should leave Malfoy to suffer that dream all night.

She had thought of one of her favorite places to go on vacation, the beach and pulled, Malfoy to that place and left him there to dream.

Hermione got to her feet, rubbing her stiff knees and glanced at the clock on his mantle. It indicated she had been in the room for two hours. She exited back to her room and fell onto her bed in exhaustion.

Chunky woke her the next morning by apperating with a crack into her bedroom. The elf threw back the curtains on the long floor to ceiling windows and the light streamed into the room. The effect of the sunlight versus the candle light on the room was stunning, but completely lost on Hermione who grunted and rolled over, covering her head with a fluffy down pillow.

"I thought Missus would need some help getting up thin morning. Missus was up late with the Master, but Missus Hermeni has done it! The Master slept all night. He was not crying out or walking the corridors last night Missus Hermeni. Chunky knew you would help him, Chunky is so happy!"

Hermione couldn't bear to put a damper on the elf's enthusiasm, so she sat up and smiled at her. "I helped stop it last night, Chunky, but he is not cured just yet. We still have some work to do."

"Oh, yes Missus, Chunky understands, Missus is modest.

Hermione smiled at the elf and set to her morning toilet. Twenty minutes later she was dressed in dark denim jeans and a white cotton tee shirt.

She headed downstairs led by Chunky and found Malfoy sitting at the head of yet another large long rectangular table in what Chunky called the "Breakfast Room" Hermione was a bit bemused at all of the formality. The room, however it seemed did make some concession to the fact that Breakfast was usually a less formal meal than dinner. The room had wonderful Eastern exposure so sunlight poured in through sheer white wispy curtains. The walls were a light cream color with white wainscoting five feet up the wall, and it was about half the size of the dining room, giving it, by Malfoy standards at least, a warmer feeling.

Again, Malfoy sat alone at the head of the large table that was laden with almost as much food as the tables in the great hall at Hogwarts used to hold for breakfast meals. Malfoy was reading a newspaper and sipping tea, the plate before him containing only toast and jam.

"Good morning." Hermione ventured as she entered the room. She was nervous about seeing him again for the first time, awake at least, since he had kissed her. She had a speech all set about how he could not repeat his actions. She would take responsibility for her part in the kiss and apologize too and that would be the end of it.

Quite unexpectedly, Malfoy stood as she entered and pulled out the chair to the right of his, pushing it in as she sat down with it. "Thank you." She said, looking at him a bit quizzically. He nodded in reply then sat down again. "Malfoy, about last night-"She started. She was cut off by his clipped response. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

Malfoy resumed reading his paper and sipping his tea without another word. 'That went well. Now that that is settled-' She mused, really having expected to be ignored completely at the very least.

Hermione for her part found she was rather hungry and selected a scone go with her tea. As she stirred her tea she became conscious of Malfoy watching her and looked up. Her chocolate brown eyes met and were held by his silvery ones.

Moments ticked by, Hermione didn't know what to say. Malfoy seemed disinclined to speak. Her cheeks slowly flooded with color. The moment was broken when Chunky's squeaky voice filled the room announcing Bill Weasley. Hermione stood to give Bill a small peck on the cheek and offer him a cup of tea which he declined.

"I just stopped by on the way to the office to make sure everything was OK." He glared briefly in Malfoy's direction.

"Everything is fine, Bill, really." Hermione assured him, her hand rested briefly on Bills shoulder. I will come by the office tomorrow afternoon to pick up the weekly report."

Reassured Bill bid them goodbye and left to head to work.

After Hermione resumed her seat Malfoy remarked sarcastically, "'The weekly report'? Is that what they are calling it these days? You sure do have a thing for gingers, eh Grainger?"

Hermione scowled at Malfoy over her tea cup. "If you used your time in my head to pry you really didn't do such a good job now did you? Bill is engaged to marry Fleur Delacroix. We are just coworkers and _friends_."

Draco scoffed. "Well then why on earth were you kissing him? Hardly the noble Gryffindor, Grainger"

Hermione choked and sputtered on her tea. Merlin, she had forgotten about that one and only kiss with Bill Weasley. It had been almost two years ago and Bill had initiated it.

Hermione had broken things off with Ron several weeks before she was due to leave to Thailand. A very inebriated Bill had come to Hermione's flat to confess that he had had a crush on her for several years. He told her that his age and her involvement with Ron had always kept him from pursuing her.

Hermione had listened to his confession as she sat with him on the couch of her flat, eyes wide with amazement. She had never considered Bill as anyone other than Ron's brother and a good friend. He was a handsome man, more so than most, come to that, but Hermione simply had never thought of him romantically. Her amazement had turned to surprise as Bill, encouraged by her silence had wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him for a soul searching kiss.

After the kiss, Hermione had gently told Bill that while she found him attractive, there just wasn't any chemistry in the kiss for her. She also didn't think a relationship with Bill would be something she could pursue as she had just broken things off with his brother.

They had discussed everything and Bill had grudgingly seen the wisdom in her words. While he was disappointed he agreed they should remain just friends.

Two months later Bill had met Fleur Delacroix and fallen head over heels for the half veela.

They were to marry in three weeks. Bill, when he proposed, had jokingly thanked Hermione for turning him down that night.

"I-I, you-how. Oh, bugger!" Hermione stopped, realizing she was making no sense at all. "For your information, that kiss was a long time ago. Before Bill even met Fleur." She said hotly "He thought he was interested in dating me, but we decided to be friends and we are. Very good friends!"

Malfoy grinned, a genuine grin as opposed to a sneer or a smirk.

'He has beautiful teeth.' Hermione thought before she could catch herself.

"So you turned Bill Weasley down flat did you Grainger? Brilliant!" Malfoy said laughter in his tone.

"Malfoy, that kiss is none of your concern. You had better not go blabbing my private life out to all and sundry. Those are private memories-"

"And mine aren't?" Malfoy shot back, his easy smile vanished.

"I didn't say that!" Hermione shot back. "But you also don't hear me needling you about your memories either!"

Malfoy was silent for a moment at that.

He looked her up and down and nodded if a bit grudgingly.

"OK," He said, "Fair enough. I have some meetings this morning, I need to get going." He stood abruptly and walked toward the door. His casual swagger showed his expertly tailored black suit to perfection and Hermione thought it a shame that someone so good looking should be so arrogant and foul tempered. Without warning Malfoy turned back to lock eyes with Hermione.

"And, Grainger, just so you know, the beach is nice, but I much rather skiing. San Moritz is a personal favorite." He smirked and walked out of the door.

Hermione balled her hands into fists and let out a snort of disgust.

How typically Malfoy. What did she expect? "I should have left him having an eternal dinner with Mr. Personality, Voldemort.' Hermione mused.

"San Moritz." She muttered to herself as she climbed the stairs back to her room. Then an idea popped into her head. She smiled broadly and whistled as she grabbed her bag and left Malfoy Manor.


	5. Chapter 5

After a long day at the ministry Hermione returned to Malfoy Manor

After a long day at the ministry Hermione returned to Malfoy Manor. She ate dinner alone in her room. Chunky had told her Draco was working late and Hermione couldn't bear to eat alone in that huge, stiflingly formal room. She didn't know how Malfoy did it, quite frankly. She delivered the potion with Chunky around ten that night. Without a word to either of them, and not even a glace for Hermione, Malfoy took resentfully. At least he didn't throw the glass like a two year old this time' Hermione mused.

At around two in the morning the warm vibration and glowing of her wand woke Hermione. The tracer was activated. Hermione ran to Malfoy's room again and had to sit on the edge of the bed to wrestle one of his hands from the sheet it was tangled in. She grabbed his hand and whispered the incantation that sent her spiraling into his dream world.

Again the dream was not the memory she was seeking of Harry being cursed by Voldemort, but another horrible memory. Voldemort was present, this time in an unknown house, torturing and humiliating both his loyal followers who'd displeased him as well as some captured muggleborn wizards.

Hermione, anxious to get herself and Malfoy out of the terrible scene, once again gripped Draco's hand and squeezed. They tumbled together into velvet covered theater seats. Hermione looked around at the sea of mostly female faces in the theater and smiled. She looked at Malfoy who was in the seat next to her and smiled at him sweetly. His eyes narrowed at her mirth and he was about to speak when the curtain went up on the stage. A short, rotund woman walked up to the microphone. Applause thundered in the huge theater and the woman began to speak.

"Thank you! Thank you, ladies and a few gentlemen I see! Welcome everybody to the 5th annual presentation of the Vagina Monologues!"

Malfoy's' jaw hit the floor and his eyes flew to Hermione's' just as she waved at him and let go of his hand. She found herself sitting on his bed looking down at the sleeping man. Malfoy was no longer thrashing around in the bed clothes, but he had a distinctly disgruntled expression on his sleeping face. Hermione grinned and returned to her room.

Malfoy would dream of the entire four hour extended version of the Vagina Monologues performance. She had seen it during one of her mothers famous mother-daughter bonding expeditions. It was a great event, if you were a woman. For some reason she just knew that Malfoy would be less than pleased, and that suited her just fine.

--

The next morning Hermione was already at the table when Malfoy swept into the room. She was struck again by how perfectly immaculate he always looked. Her eyes traveled down the length of his frame, appreciating his simple, elegant sense of style.

He only grunted in reply when she said good morning in a sing song voice. He plopped down in his chair and proceeded to bury his nose in his newspaper.

Hermione took the hint and finished eating silently starting to feel a bit nervous about her little prank. Malfoy was hosting her at his house after all and he wasn't distinctly known for having a good sense of humor either. Perhaps she shouldn't have done it she mused briefly. Then without realizing it she tilted her chin up in defiance. It was a simple enough prank. If he got his knickers in a knot over it he could just sod off. She nearly jumped from her defiant reverie when Malfoy finally acknowledged her presence after a few minutes by muttering from behind his paper.

"I beg your pardon," Hermione said, failing miserably at hiding her glee. "I didn't quite catch that."

"I said," Growled Malfoy, whipping his newspaper down onto the table. "The beach will do just fine!"

Hermione smiled impishly and bit her lip to keep from laughing. She tried in vain to look like her full concentration was on buttering her toast.

"You really think you're funny don't you?" He said glaring at her.

Hermione put her finger to her chin for a moment and frowned.

"No," she said thoughtfully, "No, usually, actually, I'm not very funny at all, but then there are times, like last night, for instance, when I am bloody hilarious." She couldn't help it any longer and grinned widely at him. Amazingly Hermione watched as he struggled against a huge smile that finally won out.

"Yeah, well." Malfoy said through his smile. "I am perfectly prepared to admit defeat Granger, as long as I don't end up at any more all female events. Lord knows if I piss you off again you may end up planting me in your last bikini wax memory." Draco cringed, then leaned back and picked up the business section of is news paper.

"Good idea, Malfoy." She said brightly, her smile widening as she stood up to leave. "I hadn't thought of that." He rolled his eyes and buried his nose in his newspaper.

As she left the room however he automatically tilted his head from around his paper. His eyes lingered on her hips and backside as she gracefully exited the room. Shaking himself after she rounded the corner out of view he tried to focus on today's wizarding business section. His mind, however kept returning to silky chestnut hair a curvy bum and coppery brown eyes.

The next few weeks settled into a pattern and went by fairly uneventfully. Hermione gave Draco the memory tracer in his sleeping potion every night. She encountered countless atrocious memories from his childhood and from his adult life.

She pulled him from his nightmares into safe, simple places where he could dream and sleep, awakening refreshed and rested. The dark circles beneath his eyes disappeared and he lost his sickly pallor and seemed to gain a better disposition in general.

During the day they were able to remain companionable, even friendly. When they ate dinner together, they discussed old times at Hogwarts or what each had been doing since the war ended. Hermione found that Draco was incredibly intelligent. He was able to converse with her freely about just about anything. He also had a quick wit, something she really hadn't expected of him.

This morning she'd had breakfast with Draco. She noticed that she was thinking of him as Draco more than as Malfoy. He seemed a different person from the nasty tempered Malfoy she'd known at Hogwarts.

This morning they had been debating the Wizengamots' newest law, requiring that all witches and wizards pay a tax for the care of aged and infirm magical creatures. Draco had blasted the law as bleeding heart liberal nonsense. While Hermione had thought it perfectly reasonable and the least they could do considering the servitude the poor creatures so diligently adhered to during their lives.

"And then, in their twilight years, after all of their work and loyalty a full 68.4 percent of house elves are tossed out, given clothes without so much as a galleon as thanks!"

Twenty minutes later, Draco walked briskly out of the breakfast room without turning around, almost as if he was afraid to look back over his shoulder least Hermione begin her speech afresh. He glanced down at the small glossy black lapel pin on his robes as he went. S.P.E.W. was spelled out neatly in crisp white letters across the pin. Hermione shook her head as she watched him go. She wasn't quite sure if he had just pinned the S.P.E.W. button to his lapel pin to shut her up or if he really had begun to understand the plight of the house elf. She sighed in resignation, 'probably the former', she thought.

Later that morning when she had asked Chunky about her plans for her old age the elf was determinedly loyal. "We Malfoy elves have been in the family forever. Even if we become too ill or old to serve, the Malfoy's' have always made it clear that retired elves have a home at Malfoy Manor for as long as they live.

For some reason, she felt almost proud of Draco after she spoke with Chunky. She pushed the feeling aside as she counseled the elf never to take anything for granted and to make sure she had an alternate plan. The elf had looked at her as if she was a simpleton but agreed that she would contact some distant cousins. She left the manor feeling happy and carefree.

Her mood carried though most of the day. After spending a busy day at the ministry, she apperated to Harry and Ginnys' house after work to check on Harry. Seeing Harry sobered Hermione from the light mood she'd been in all day. Harry had never looked worse.

While she kept a brave face as she spent the day with the couple she all but broke down in tears when she left the house. By the time she returned to the manor it was all she could do to make it back to her rooms before she slumped to her knees in front of the sofa and burst into tears.

Harry was losing his fight against the curse and it had hit her like a ton of bricks. She was watching her closest friend die and she couldn't stop it. She didn't know how long she sat there, sobbing uncontrollably. She couldn't stop, didn't want to stop crying, she had held it in for too long, but now, seeing Harry so weak made her face the fact that he was likely going to die, and soon.

He didn't deserve it. He had gone through so much in his short life and now, when he should have been able to enjoy the post war peace, he was confronted with the real prospect of his own premature death. The thought started her sobbing anew her face wet with bitter tears.

Suddenly Malfoy was there. He enfolded her in his powerful arms; her face was pressed against his shoulder as he lifted her to sit across his lap. A soothing hand stroked her hair as she cried. He held her tightly rocking her slightly.

"Shhh," He was telling her. "It's all right now. It's going to be OK." He rubbed her back in soft circles with his free hand as if she were a small child with a skinned knee. After a long time, exhaustion took hold and her crying subsided.

She felt remarkably safe and secure sitting there, being embraced by a man she had always thought of as an enemy. Her eyes drooped as fatigue from her emotional turmoil and lack of sleep caught up with her. Hermione didn't protest as he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed. He laid her down and she looked up through heavily lidded eyes to see his face.

If she had to use a word to describe how he looked she would call it haunted. For the briefest moment she saw raw anguish and regret in his eyes before he pulled the blanket up to her shoulders and turned to leave the room.

"Draco." She said her quavering voice loud in the silent room. She didn't know what she was calling him back for. Didn't know why she had called him Draco instead of Malfoy, she just knew that she couldn't quite bear for him to leave. Her voice trembled with exhaustion and unshed tears.

He turned slowly at the sound of her voice, as if he was afraid to turn and look at her.

Silvery grey eyes looked at her with reluctance, sadness and maybe something akin to hope in their depths.

"Please," she almost whispered, "don't go." Hermione tried to sound casual, as if she was not pleading. She knew if he didn't stay she would not be able to hold it together.

Draco stood where he was, at the door, his body turned towards her. He opened his mouth to speak, then seemed to think better of it, he shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and strolled casually back over to her bed. He dropped into the chair by her bed and stretching his long legs in front of him crossed his ankles and gave her a lopsided half smile. Hermione smiled back at him and laid her head back down on the pillow. Within moments her eyes began to close and she was dreaming of books and broomsticks and silvery grey eyes.

Hermione woke up with a start. She looked around only to find herself looking into Draco Malfoys glittery gaze in the darkness. Hermione realized his hand lay over hers on the cover of the bed, but he was otherwise right where she had left him sitting when she'd fallen asleep. Hermione's gaze sifted to his hand as it rested on hers. As if suddenly aware of where his hand was, Draco lifted his hand off of hers as if he had been burned.

"Draco? What time is it?" She asked, rising up on her elbow as she reclined on her side. One hand automatically going to her hair, that tumbled around her shoulders like silk.

"Close to midnight, I'd imagine." He replied.

"You're joking!" She sat bolt upright in shock. "Why didn't you wake me?"

He only shrugged and gave her a lopsided smile. "You looked like you needed the sleep."

Hermione stared back at him in the darkness.

"Why are you still here?"

"You asked me to stay." He said as if it was a silly question.

"Aren't you tired?"

"Exhausted," He answered, running his hand through his slightly mussed hair. "But I can't seem to get to sleep anymore without a damnable sleeping draught."

"Oh," Hermione said quietly, "and we didn't give it to you tonight. Draco, I'm so sorry. I didn't intend to fall asleep on you."

"Don't apologize," Malfoy now stood, stretching his back after sitting so long. "Why were you crying?"

Hermione's eyes snapped up to his and he came to sit on the edge of the bed.

He didn't say anything else, just waited.

"Ah, I see." Malfoy said crossing his arms.

"What do you see?" Hermione asked a bit defensively.

"Potter." Malfoy said as if it was the single word did not need any further explanation.

"You know Granger, you can't control everything that happens, any more than you can control who it happens to."

Hermione was speechless that he was astute enough to read her thoughts. Her tears and frustration had been because she couldn't change things.

"But I know you'll never stop trying." Hermione picked her head up to look at him, expecting to find a mocking smirk on his face. She was surprised to see him regarding her pensively.

"It's actually one of the things I respect most about you."

Hermione was so surprised by his statement that, to her surprise, her eyes filled with tears again.

"Merlin, Hermione, I didn't mean to set you off again." He said sounding almost panicked.

Hermione laughed at his nervous expression despite herself and grinned at him through her watery eyes.

"Oh, relax Malfoy, I'm not going to cry all over you again."

"Thank goodness," Draco drawled in mock relief. "It took me twenty minutes to turgio the boogies off my shirt the first time."

"Ouch!" He said as Hermione cuffed him on the shoulder.

"I did NOT get boogies on you!" Hermione cried indignantly, through her smile.

"OK, Ok," Draco relented "Whatever you say."

Hermione scoffed at him, but smiled again despite herself.

His joking had done what he had intended and kept her from crying again. She was able to tell him of her visit with Harry and Ginny and to her amazement, he listened. He didn't smirk while she talked about her ill friend or make any jokes, he just listened. Hermione poured out her fears to Draco, not sure why she trusted him, she just did. She talked about how ill Harry was, how Ginny cared for him day and night as well as their one year old daughter. How Harry felt like a burden to his wife and useless in caring for his own child.

Draco listened intently, asking her to clarify when she spoke about things he didn't know and nodding his affirmation when he understood. When she broke down in tears again while describing how Harry had exploded in frustration during dinner when his hands shook too badly for him to cut his own food, Draco sat on her bed and once again held her while she cried.

When she couldn't talk anymore she fell silent. She felt like she had been selfish in dumping all of her fears about Harry on him. She asked him about Malfoy manor, about how he had passed his childhood before he went to Hogwarts.

Draco told her about his years as a young child. He spoke most about his mother. How she had dotted on him, admittedly spoiled him.

"These were her rooms." He remarked looking around the darkened room as if he were seeing them in a different time. "She used to sit on the sofa before the fire and read books to me for hours."

Hermione heard the emotion in his voice and knew he was reliving those moments with his mother. He seemed to shake himself mentally, before he continued.

"She wanted lots of children; after she had me she had several miscarriages. They finally gave up hope of having any other children. I think I became everything to her then. I mean, I was only seven or eight, but she poured every ounce of energy, every ounce of love for those babies she lost into me."

"Didn't your father realize how distraught she was?" Hermione asked, realizing instantly that bringing up Lucious Malfoy was the wrong thing to do.

"Lucious," He said, refusing to call him father. "He blamed her for not being able to carry another child to term. He would taunt her with it whenever they quarreled, then dismiss her tears as a sign of what he believed was her inherent weakness."

Draco's eyes darkened with anger as he continued.

"He was so consumed with Voldemort, with dark magic, power and purity that he barely noticed mother or me unless we were a means to any of those things." His eyes clouded with pain and fury and Hermione knew that he was remembering things he didn't want to speak of. "I think she regretted marrying him within a year after they were wed. I was born a year and a half after they were married and no other children followed."

Focusing on his memories of his mother, Draco spoke of a woman that Hermione could very much have liked and admired. In retrospect, the comfortable feel of her rooms spoke volumes about Narcissa Malfoy.

The woman had had the means and the money to decorate her inner sanctum in any way she wanted. She had gone so contrary to the stiff, opulent formality of the rest of the house that walking into her rooms was like night and day. The way Draco spoke about Narcissa made Hermione feel like she knew her. Staying in her rooms made that feeling seem all that more real.

Draco talked about how ideal she tried to make his world. How she tried to shield him from as much of his fathers' poison as she could, failing miserably in his preteen and early teenaged years.

During that time, Draco admitted, he wanted nothing but his fathers' respect and love.

"The best way I could think of to please him was to be just like him." Draco scoffed shaking his head, his thoughts turning inward for a moment as he recalled his younger years.

"I pushed mother away during those years. I listened to my father call her weak and believed that to be strong like him I had to snuff out my own weakness, my love for her."

He closed his eyes and bowed his head for a full minute before he spoke again. By the time I was sixteen, I was finally beginning to doubt Lucious and his twisted ideas of power and love." Draco stood and paced the room slowly as he spoke, running his hand through his hair now and then as if he could wipe the memories away.

"When I started to defy him, to refuse to do his bidding, he used his supreme weapon against me to get me to do what he wanted. He said he would prove what a fool I was to love her. He used my mother to keep me in line."

He talked about the hell he and his mother went through as Lucious in a vile attempt to control him had humiliated, tormented and when he was especially determined to prove a point, beaten his mother.

Any disobedience or lack of enthusiasm on Draco's part and his mother was made to suffer for it.

Draco recalled a time when he had physically confronted his father, ready to duel him, to punish him or even kill him to protect his mother. Lucious had laughed and cast an unbreakable shield charm around himself and Narcissa. Draco had been forced to watch as he had beaten her all the more savagely for Draco's attempt to stop him.

Eventually Draco he fell silent, either not wanting or willing to tell her more about his difficult youth. Hermione had felt compelled to fill the void with stories about her mother and father.

Draco was quiet at first, but soon was asking questions about her muggle upbringing before Hogwarts. When she mentioned her parents were avid hikers he had been amazed at her description of muggle camping.

"So the tent isn't any larger inside than what it looks like? It's just big enough on the inside for two cots? So how do you refrigerate or cook your food without a kitchen? Where is the loo?" When she explained to him about food in tins, cooking on a camp fire and the wide outdoors as a loo he looked appalled. "Gads Granger! That's positively medieval!"

They talked for hours until exhausted, they simply sat in silence for a long time.

Finally, Draco rose and said it was time for him to leave. He'd ended up lying side by side with Hermione on top of her fluffy down comforter by the time they had finished talking a few hours later.

Looking at the clock Hermione saw it was nearly three in the morning. She sat up and walked with Draco to the door that adjoined their rooms.

"Well," Hermione said, suddenly feeling like she was saying good night after a great first date. "I-I'm glad we could talk about…things. Thanks, for letting me cry all over you."

Draco reached up and pushed a coiled coppery tendril back away from her cheek. He rubbed the silky curl between his fingers before he let his hand fall away. Then, his eyes burned into hers saying a thousand words silently.

But when he opened his mouth he only said, "Any time, Granger." With a flicker of a smile he turned and walked into his bedroom. Hermione closed the door and leaned against it, letting out a breath she didn't know she was holding. Why did she feel so disappointed?


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

**CHAPTER 6**

The next morning at breakfast a bleary eyed Hermione stumbled into the breakfast room. Her eyes were red and puffy from lack of sleep, her hair was in a jumbled pony tail and she was still sporting the pajama pants and cotton tank she had changed into after Malfoy left.

"Morning, Granger." Malfoy said. Hermione scowled at him wordlessly and plopped down into a chair. She levitated the tea pot toward herself and busied herself preparing a cup of tea. Muttering to herself about chipper morning conversation.

After her tea was prepared she sipped the hot liquid and eyed Malfoy over the rim of her cup.

Why was it that she looked like a reincarnation of a Neanderthal woman while Malfoy, who had gotten less sleep than she, didn't even have bags under his eyes? It was truly disgusting for a man to look so good on four hours of sleep.

As she thought, Malfoy opened his mouth and began to speak. It took her foggy disgruntled mind a few moments to realize that words were coming out of his mouth and she should listen to them.

"So, what say you, Hermione?"

"Huh?" Was all she could mutter, having heard only the last sentence he spoke.

"I said I will be having a small formal dinner party this evening."

'Oh, yes, well, that's no problem, I mean; I'll just read in my room and bring something up before your guests arrive. They'll never know I'm here, I won't make a sound, honest."

"Hermione," Malfoy sounded amused, "I don't want you out of the way. I was rather hoping you would agree to come as my guest."

Hermione was speechless.

"You want _me _to come to your dinner party?"

Yes, that _is_ why I asked you."

Hermione was silent for a moment. Draco raised an eyebrow at her as if to say, it's not that difficult a question.

"W-What time shall I be ready?"

"Seven." He said, winking at her conspiratorially as he rose to leave. He swept out of the door without a backward glance. Hermione stared after him, still grumpy and dazed from lack of sleep.

"_That is why I asked you_." She mimicked in a nasty high pitched voice after she was sure he was gone. "Great! What am I supposed to wear to a formal dinner party at Malfoy Manor?" A loud pop of apperition sounded just as she finished speaking and Chunky appeared. Hermione screamed in surprise then gulped and clutched her chest when she saw it was only Chunky.

"Why you needs to go see Monsieur Beleaux, Missus Hermeni. He will have you the perfect thing in a jiffy. My Mrs. Malfoy used to go to him for all of her formal robes."

"Monsieur Beleaux? Is he a robes maker?"

"Yes, missus. The best shop in Diagon Ally for formal robes and such." Chunky grinned.

Hermione thought for a moment. "OK Chunky, will you come with me to help me?" Chunky beamed and nodded. Hermione rose and rushed upstairs to change, suddenly her fatigue and lack of sleep was forgotten.

Over an hour later Hermione stood staring at her reflection in the magical mirror at Monsieur Beleaux's store. It showed her the front of the dress robes she wore then, when she swished her wand, it showed her how the back of the looked.

Monsieur Beleaux was positively gushing. His small black mustache bunched and bristled while he raved in heavily accented French. "Mademoiselle Granger, Mon Dieu! But you are stunning in dis gown. I vould not have to change a ting. It is as if it vas made for you."

'Maybe it was made for my filthy rich twin.' Hermione thought in agony. The dress was gorgeous and she would have gladly paid a fortune for it, but the amount on the label was downright obscene. There was no way she could spend that much on a single dress, even if she did have the money which she didn't.

While her parents were both doctors and quite well to do, she took it as a mark of pride that she, as an adult did not depend upon them for financial support. She had her own flat, and provided for herself since the day she had started working for the Ministry. She had a fairly substantial salary for someone her age. She was comfortable, but she wasn't exactly rolling in galleons.

Hermione took one last look in the mirror and went back into the dressing room. Pulling on a pretty black gown she reemerged from the dressing room and tried not to pout as she looked at herself in the mirror. The gown was nice, but after the knockout pearl grey silk dress she had just had on it was just ok.

"It will have to be this one Monsieur." She said, sighing resignedly. Monsieur Beleaux obviously understood real world finances and nodded diplomatically. "Dis dress iz very nice also." He said amicably. "I vill just ave to take in 'ere and there and you vill be magnifique." Hermione smiled back at him and sighed as he began to place pins and chalk marks for alteration. She paid for the gown and left the address where it should be delivered. Monsieur Beleaux promised it would be delivered by six and wished them good day.

Hermione and Chunky walked along Daigon Alley and did some more shopping for odds and ends, then returned to the manor. Hermione had tea in her room then succumbed to sleep for a few hours.

Before she knew it the day was at an end and it was almost time for the dinner party. Hermione bathed and then sat at the vanity table to use all of her skill to achieve a rather stunning updo. She had learned a lot of glamour and beauty spells since she'd left Hogwarts and by the time she was finished she was more than satisfied with her reflection in the mirror.

Her Hair was pulled away from her face and interlaced loosely at the crown of her head. Thick, glossy auburn curls fell loosely down her back to her waist. It had the elegant effect of an updo, but the simplicity of wearing her hair down at the same time.

The glamour charms she'd used lined her eyes with dark makeup and gave them a sensual smoky quality. Her eyelashes looked longer and thicker. Her lips were perfect in a natural sheer pink tinged gloss and her skin had a creamy glowing quality to it.

Now that she was finished with her hair and make up, she was starting to get nervous. Not only did she not know what to expect tonight, but the dress she'd purchased from Monsieur Beleaux's had not arrived yet. She sat in her dressing gown twisting her fingers together, trying to remember not to bit her lip and ruin her makeup.

After what seemed like forever she heard what she was waiting for. As she rushed to the window she saw a large screech owl perched on the ledge with a long packaged clutched in its talons.

She flung open the window and pulled the package in. The owl looked at her condescendingly as if it was expecting a treat.

She stuffed a coin into his pouch, but refused to give him an owl treat which earned her a clicking hoot of aggravation from the owl. "Fat chance! You're late." Hermione said as she shut the window in his beak and rushed to the bedroom. She tore open the package, praying that Mr. Beleaux was able to alter garments better than he was able to keep time. It was quarter to seven.

She stopped cold when she saw the silvery grey silk material of the dress she had wished she could afford. She picked it up, her heart hammering. There must have been some mistake! She was sure Monsieur Beleaux understood her when she had chosen and paid for the less expensive gown.

Holding the dress up to herself she looked down and noticed a small note that had fallen out of the package. She picked it up and scanned it and smiled at the crisp elegant hand written note.

_Granger,_

_This suits you much better than the other. Get a move on or you'll be late._

_DM_

Hermione hugged the dress to herself, her excitement now doubled seeing as she would be wearing the most gorgeous dress she'd ever seen compliments of Draco Malfoy.

In moments she was dressed, looking at herself in the mirror grinning madly. She twirled around. The soft silver grey silk of the dress hugged her curves to perfection. The fabric was so thin one could almost imagine it was see through. The back dipped very low, showing an elongated expanse of the creamy skin of her back. The whole effect made her feel like a move star from the 1920's

Chunky apparated into her room and exclaimed over her.

"Missus Hermeni looks soooo pretty!"

"Thank you, Chunky. But you don't seem surprised that I am wearing a different dress than the one I purchased today." Hermione smiled at the elf. Chunky had enough grace to blush and cast her eyes around the room.

"Chunky is hoping Missus isn't angry. Chunky was just thinking Missus really did like this dress better. Chunky just mentioned it to Master, Missus, just in passing. Master told Chunky to go back to the shop and change the order." Chunky rung her tiny hands together with anxiety.

"I am not angry Chunky." Hermione hurried to reassure the elf. "I just wondered how he knew."

"Chunky is sooo glad missus isn't angry. Well, the Master is waiting for you downstairs Missus."

Hermione was a little disappointed he didn't actually come to her room for her, but, she supposed it wasn't a date or anything so why would he?

She walked out into the hallway and made her way to the staircase. At the top she paused. Draco was near the bottom of the stairs conversing with a tall dark wizard in dress robes. Three elegant young witches and another young wizard were further away near the fireplace.

As she began to descend the staircase, both of the wizards near the bottom of it looked up.

Hermione's eyes immediately locked with Draco's. He turned away from the wizard he was conversing with so that he could fully face her as she approached. Hermione smiled, seeing the look on his face. It was the look that every witch wanted to see on a wizards face when she made an effort to get dressed up. It was the kind of admiration a man shows a beautiful woman.

As she reached to bottom of the stairs Draco stepped up to take her elbow. He pulled her away from the wizard he had been speaking with toward the open French doors.

"Merlin's Beard, Granger. Chunky just said this dress was a lot better than the other on you but- You look absolutely stunning." He finally said simply. "I'll have to give that elf a reward." He muttered as he took another sip of his drink.

Hermione beamed at him. "Thank you Malfoy, but tonight I think it might go over better if you call me Hermione." She said brushing an imaginary piece of lint off of his dress robes and hoping he didn't notice the pesky trembling of her fingers that had started as soon as she entered the room. She needed the excuse to look away from the deeply penetrating way he was looking at her. His hand was still on her arm and it was causing the oddest tingling sensation there.

"Draco," The tall wizard who'd been standing with Malfoy before strolled causally toward them holding two cocktails. "Are you going to try to keep this stunning witch to yourself all evening?"

Hermione blushed and smiled at the handsome wizard.

"As if I could with you around," Draco muttered. Then more loudly he said, "Aston Fallbrook, meet Hermione Granger. Hermione is an old school friend-"

"Hermione Granger?" Aston said flatly staring at her. "_The _Hermione Granger, as in the Hermione Gr-"

"Yes," Draco cut in, "She is _that_ Hermione Granger."

"Miss Granger, It is an honor to meet you," Aston said, his clear blue eyes twinkling with interest as he took her hand in booth of his to shake vigorously. Aston was very tall, taller than Draco by one or two inches. His hair was a rich dark brown and he was very handsome.

Draco, his hand still on her elbow, pulled her over to meet the others in the room with hardly an excuse us.

The evening passed pleasantly altogether. The only other gentleman present was named Oscar Finton, his wife Julie was a pretty young blonde witch. The other two witches, Amber and Jade Fallbrook were Aston's sisters. They were pleasant enough to Hermione when they spoke to her, but most of their rather considerable conversational skill was focused on Draco, she noticed.

The Fallbrook's were a well respected pure blood family. Hermione had heard of them. Like the Malfoy's they were also from old wizarding money. When she asked Aston why she didn't remember him from Hogwarts he grinned lazily. Telling her that by Fallbrook tradition the members of the family were educated at home by tutors.

His sisters had also been educated at home.

When they all went in to dinner, Draco escorted her and sat her in her normal chair on his right, just before Amber could slip into it. She gave Hermione a rather waspish look, but her features quickly arranged themselves into a smile as she sat on Draco's opposite side. Hermione, who ended up between Draco and Aston spoke more often to Aston, as he seemed keen to learn more about her.

Draco spoke to her several times during the meal but seemed bound to answer a plethora of questions shot at him by Jade or Amber Fallbrook. Before long it was time for dessert and coffee. Hermione was feeling a bit anxious by now, as Aston was moving his chair closer every chance he got. He was leaning in a bit too close to speak to her and he had placed a hand rather familiarly on the back of her chair. She leaned back when he leaned in, she moved her chair back every time he inched his forward. "Soon, I'm going to fall backward" Hermione mused as she leaned back slightly again while Aston spoke. Without warning her chair was being drawn back and Draco was offering her his hand to stand.

"Shall we all retire to the music room?" He said, not sparing a glance at Aston. They walked into the music room as a group; gentlemen escorting the ladies. Draco led the way with Hermione on his arm. Hermione didn't consider or analyze how glad she was to be away from Aston, nor how comfortable it felt for her to allow herself to lean on Draco's arm as they walked. The music room was very opulent. It was done in a French Rocco style with gold leaf and gilt furnishings. The instruments were breathtaking.

A Stradivarius violin laid in a glass case to protect it from dust on a shelf, A Chickering square grand piano dominated one wall and a magnificent inlaid Louis XVI Harp was near the fireplace.

"Do you play?" Draco asked in her ear as she admired the violin. Hermione shook her head.

"Not the violin. Unfortunately, my mum made me take piano lessons twice a week for six years with Madame Emanuel. I loved the piano, but she was a wicked old lady, and that's being generous."

Draco chuckled as he looked at her, then back at the violin examining it as if he had never seen it before. "You never told me you play anything, Grang- Hermione."

She smiled a bit at his surprise and shot back. "You never asked."

He cocked his head to the side, looking at her he shrugged. "Play something?" It was a question, not a demand and Hermione felt her heart speed up. She never liked playing for an audience, but it was only a small number of people and piano was so magnificent.

She walked over to the instrument. She had only seen pictures of the square grand pianos that were made in the mid to late 1800's, before the modern grand piano case was developed. It was truly beautiful in real life. The intricately carved piano seemed to called to her and her fingers itched to test the keys.

Hermione knew from her readings that it had to be at least 145 years old. It was unbelievably pristine for its age. This one was made of rosewood and its keys, actually made of tusk ivory for the white keys and the now rare Gaboon ebony wood for its black keys.

"You probably don't have any muggle composers," Hermione sighed, "that's all I know well enough to play in front of people." Draco smiled and walked over to a cabinet that was full of sheet music when he opened it. "My Mother," He explained looking over his shoulder at her. She liked what she liked, no matter whether it was from the wizarding world or the muggle world."

Hermione stepped up to the cabinet and looked at the selection of music. After a moment she saw what she was hoping for.

"This one." She said her eyes on his. She knew they were softened by the wine, but she suddenly didn't care.

The rest of the group was wandering around the large room, exploring and looking at the instruments. Not wanting to make too much of it, Hermione simply sat down and tested the keys. The instrument was perfectly tuned. She should have known.

The square case gave it an old world harp like sound. She imagined it must have sounded just the same in the 1850's. Without preamble she settled herself on the bench with a smile and began to play.

The soft, sweet tones of Chopin's Nocturne in C Minor filled the room.

Hermione, absorbed in the beautiful sounds of the piano was unaware of the others until she finished playing several minutes later.

Everyone clapped with genuine appreciation except Draco. He was leaning on the far end of the piano, his hand on the case, staring at her intently. His silver eyes were dark and intense. Hermione stared back at him, she felt drawn to him.

Before she could stand to move by him, she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder. Astor leaned down a bit too closely again and whispered in her ear. "You look like an angel and you can play like heaven." He took her hand to help her stand. "I am intrigued, Hermione Granger. Please sit, tell me more about yourself"

Hermione smiled politely and sat down in the chair where he had led her by the fire, though she suddenly felt far from warm. She resisted the urge to look over her shoulder for Draco.

Thirty minutes later it was apparent that Astors' idea of learning more about her, was to talk about himself and find out how impressed she was by him. Hermione was beginning to have trouble not yawning and was glad when the Finton's said their adieu.

Within half an hour Amber wandered over to her brother and announced none to quietly that she was tired and ready to leave. Draco called for their coats and made a big production of seeing them to the door. Once they had thanked him and spoken for another ten minutes they too finally departed.

Hermione feeling tired and for some reason a bit nervous watched as Draco closed the heavy front doors and turned to her. He thrust his hands in the front pockets of his trousers and cocked his head to the side slightly. For the briefest moment Hermione had the impression he was trying to make up his mind about something. He studied her slowly and intentionally from head to toe his eyes finally traveling over the soft features of her face to met her eyes

Hermione was jarred by the undisguised desire that darkened his grey eyes. He walked up to her slowly, as if afraid she would flee. Grasping her arm he suddenly pulled her along behind him until they were in the music room once again. Without a word he shrugged off his black over robes and was left standing in his dress shirt and trousers. With a wave of his wand the piano began to play itself. To her surprise, it was the same song she had played, the same way she had just played it, repeating on the keys magically.

She turned to him with a small smile. He nodded and spoke as he pulled her into his arms and started dancing slowly with her.

"The only flaw in listening to you play," He murmured into her hair as he held her very close. "Is that I can't dance with you while you are playing."

The faint scratch of the slight stubble from his beard against her cheek tickled. She inhaled his crisp spicy scent as her heart hammered against her ribs.

"And the way you play," He continued as he pulled her even closer, his arms circling around her waist, his cheek against her head. "Makes me want to do so much more than just hold you."

Her hands were resting lightly on his shoulders and at his words a warm feeling spread in her belly, Her hands, as if of their own accord slid up his neck to meet at the back of his neck, her fingers playing softly with the ends of the silky hair there. Suddenly Draco stopped dancing and brought a hand around take her chin and force her to look up at him.

The next second he brought his head down to hers, his nose brushed against the side of hers, his lips so close she could feel his breath tickle them as he spoke.

"You may regret this later, but I won't. No matter what, I won't."

And then he was kissing her softly once, twice, then a third time, his lips warm and perfect on hers and she couldn't think, couldn't hear. He groaned softly and pulled back to look down at her as her eyes fluttered open, unfocused and dazed.

With a lazy smile he kissed the tip of her nose and slid his right hand up to tangle in her silky hair and his mouth descended on hers again, this time less tentative, more demanding.

His tongue traced the sensitive underside of her upper lip and she gasped. He lost no time at the chance and his tongue slid into her warm mouth to taste her.

Hermione kissed him back timidly at first, then learning the rhythm of the kiss with more ardor as her heart rate increased. When her lungs were burning for air Draco tore his lips from hers and trailed kisses on her neck.

He kissed and explored her cheeks and chin while she let her hands wander over the muscles of his back, the expensive linen of his dress shirt was the only barrier between her hands and his skin. Then his lips were on hers again and she was gasping for air as Draco apperated them to the hallway in front of the door of her rooms.

Draco leaned over her, her back against the wall, kissing her with silky demanding kisses that set her on fire. His left hand was splayed against her back to press her closer to him the other in the small of his back to steady her. Hermione couldn't think past the velvet feel of his mouth and his hands on her body. Her pulses were racing and she couldn't seem to get close enough or feel enough of him.

After long minutes of enthusiastic kissing Hermione heard Draco's voice as if though a long tunnel. "Hermione…" Draco was murmuring her name between kisses, "Hermione, he started again, do you want me to stop?" Hermione, unable to think clearly, fisted her hands in his shirt. "No, you….kisses…perfect."

"Hermione," Draco said after kissing her thoroughly again before pulling back to look at her, his grey eyes burning into hers like molten steel. "If we don't stop now you're going to end up in my bed. Do you want me to make love to you Hermione?"

His words broke through the fog of her desire.

"I-I've never, well, you know. I've always wanted to wait until-- Oh, Draco, I'm sorry, I didn't think…I'm just not ready to-"

Draco cut her words off with his mouth.

The next she knew she was in Draco's arms and he was carrying her into her rooms. She found herself on the cushy sofa, Draco kneeling next to her, his kisses now slow and tender, less demanding. Finally, he leaned his forehead against hers and sighed.

"Shh, you did everything perfectly."

"What?" Exclaimed Hermione, "How could I when I don't even know what to do. I mean I don't have a lot of…experience at this sort of thing and I must have led you on and…"

"Hey," Draco interrupted her rant as she was now near to tears. "You are the sexiest woman I've ever meet. You don't know how erotic it is to know that you have never been intimate with anyone, but you almost lost your head with me. I'm more flattered than words can say."

Hermione felt her whole body warm at his words. He wasn't laughing at her for being a virgin, he thought it was sexy. She leaned forward and gave him a warm deep kiss full of emotion.

"I don't think we can keep doing this though." He said when she pulled away, his smile a bit shaky, his breathing quickened.

"When Ron and I got together right after graduation. I really thought we were going to be together, you know. Then the war started a few weeks later and we hardly ever saw each other in our respective jobs. I broke up with him when I started traveling back and forth to Thailand to train in Legilimency. After the war I moved to Thailand to study there exclusively." She looked at him ruefully. "There aren't too many dating opportunities in Thai monasteries, if you ever happen to find yourself there. When I finished my training four months ago and moved back home, Ron and I tried to pick up where we left off,. But, it just didn't work out. We had both just changed too much and we both wanted different things. So here I am, 21 years old and really inexperienced at relationships. I didn't mean to lead you on, I just-

"Hermione," Draco said caressing her back slowly as he embraced her. "You don't have to explain anything to me. I'm not an ogre, you know. I'm OK with no…for now." He smiled at her wolfishly and she went pink.

"I should leave now, or I won't be able to go at all." He said.

Hermione wanted, to tell him to stay with her for awhile, but even as inexperienced as she was she understood he was trying to control his desire for her.

She walked him to the door and leaned against it as he kissed her slowly again, pulling her into his arms to hug her fiercely before setting her firmly away from him and disappearing behind his own door, his dove grey eyes caressing her as he departed.

Hermione felt drained when he was gone. It was all she could do to stip off her gown and get ready for bed. She changed into the new nude colored camisole night gown set that Monsieur Beleaux had talked her into. 'At least if I can't _have_ sex, I can _look_ sexy.' She mused. Just as she was about to lay down, Chunky popped into her room.

Hermione looked at the tiny elf clutching the goblet of potion and sighed as she sat back up. She flung on her short matching robe and followed Chunky into Draco's room.

Draco was sitting on his bed. His hair was wet from showering and he had changed into loose fitting pajama bottoms and was about to pull a clean white tee shirt over his head. Hermione bit her lip at the sight of his muscled chest.

When he saw the two of them waiting to deliver his potion, Draco tossed his shirt aside and locked eyes with her in that heart stopping way he had. He stood and walked to them taking the potion from Chunky.

"Thank you, Chunky, you may go now." Chunky was gone before she could open her mouth to stop her.

"Bloody Hell, Hermione." He said, slamming the potion down on his table. "Are you trying to kill me coming in here dressed in that?"

She only had a second to look up at him in confusion before he pulled her to him and crushed his lips down on hers. The next second her arms were around his neck, her fingers buried in his hair and all thought gone. Draco's hands slid down her back to her firm bum to pull her closer, grinding her hips against his so that she felt his stiff arousal. His lips moved down to nuzzle her neck, alternately nipping and soothing the flesh there with his teeth and tongue.

She let her hands slide down and over his bare chest, running her soft fingertips over his taut nipples. He groaned deep in his chest and sucked harder on her neck then abandoned it to begin kissing her again. Hermione knew everything was heating up rapidly, but she could no more stop it than she could stop breathing.

Eventually it was Draco who ended their escalating kisses. He physically backed her up toward her door. Finally he said in her ear, "Please, Hermione, go. If you come back in here tonight I won't be responsible for what happens." He gave her one last hard claiming kiss and released her. She closed the door behind herself and leaned against it, breathing hard. She flew over to her bed and climbed under the covers. She felt like turning right back around and flinging herself in Draco's arms, so she did what she always did when she was in emotional upheaval. She turned on her bedside light and read.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Hermione awoke hours later. Her book across her chest where it had fallen when she had finally fallen asleep. Reading, her passion and her solace had failed her last night. After leaving Draco she had felt like her blood was on fire. She had tried to read to distract herself from the magnetic pull she felt as she resisted the urge to return to his room. She had finally fallen into a fitful dreamless sleep.

Now her wand was glowing blue and warm to the touch. It was summoning her to Draco. She hopped out of bed and ran to his door. He was rolling his head back and forth murmuring incomprehensibly. Automatically, Hermione cast the incantation that sent her tumbling into Draco's dream.

She found herself in the very bedroom she had just left. The room she had been occupying during her stay at Malfoy Manor. The room was dark save for the light of the fireplace. Malfoy stood facing the fire. He wore wizarding robes. One hand clutched his wand so fiercely that his knuckles were white. The other hand was balled into a fist at his side. The soft sound of a woman weeping caught her attention and Hermione turned to see Narcissa Malfoy on the sofa. She was curled in a fetal position.

"I'm going to kill him." Malfoy spoke still facing the fire, his voice raw with anger and emotion.

"Draco, dearest, please listen to me. Please don't say such things; you know it pains me to hear you say them."

"What! More than being beaten by him pains you, mother?" Draco spat and whirled around to face his mother "Why? Why do you stay with him. You can return to your family, they won't fault you for leaving him."

"He'd never let me take you away from him, dearest. And I won't leave you."

"He's a monster."

"He wouldn't be, Draco," Her voice broke on her words as she rushed on in a thin tight voice. "I-if you would just do what he asks!" Narcissa shifted and light from the fire fell across her face as she spoke. Hermione gasped to see her face was a swollen mass, covered with fresh cuts and bruises. She was dabbing at her face with a damp cloth. As she spoke, her misshapen lip distorted her words.

"He is angry with me because he thinks I have not tried hard enough to convince you to take the mark, Draco. He says that the Dark Lord begins to wonder why you have not taken it yet, and that puts us all in danger. Your father just wants you to submit to the mark, and then it will all be better. Our family will be happy, back to normal."

Draco closed his eyes, grimacing at hearing his mothers' words. His mother who had always been his support, his ally against his father's dark objectives had finally been broken. Lucious had finally gotten her to do what he knew she never wanted to do. She was encouraging him to become a Deatheater.

Suddenly feeling overwhelmed Draco opened his eyes to looked at her face. He wanted to see her eyes. Was this really what she wanted? Had she been so thoroughly broken?

He was surprised when he looked at her. He saw that her eyes were not on him, but on the bronze sculpture statuette of Ravana, a demon of Hindu legend. Draco recognized it as a gift his father had given to his mother only the week before. He had taken a brief business trip to East Asia and brought the statuette back as a gift.

The demon had ten heads all capped with pointed glittering crowns. Ten arms sprouted from each side of the torso, all twenty hands held pointed daggers. All in all Draco had thought it the most unappealing gift a man could ever give to his wife.

His father had been in raptures over the ugly thing, insisting that Narcissa place it on display in her rooms. "That way I know you will think of me first thing in the morning and the last thing before you go to sleep." His father had said as he helped her set in on a stand in her rooms.

At the time Draco had thought the flowery words strange. Endearments coming from his father to the woman he tormented and humiliated? In truth, he rarely treated his wife with respect unless they were in public.

Now a chill ran down his spine as his mothers attention was fixed rigidly on the statue.

Looking carefully at the statue himself, Draco was stunned to see that one of the miniature heads of the statue had glittering clear blue-grey eyes, the same shade and color as his fathers. As he watched, the blue eyes snapped about the room before returning to stare straight head at his mother.

The penny dropped and Draco realized that his father was witnessing the conversation between himself and his mother. The statue had a spy charm on it. No wonder his mother had been beaten so savagely. Just that morning she had stood in this very room begging Draco to find a way, any way out of taking the mark.

He stood and embraced his mother. She clung to him, stroking his hair like he was a small child, though he appeared to be around seventeen. "I see it," He said into her ear in the slightest whisper.

Then aloud he said.

"I will do anything, mother to keep this from happening to you again. I'll take the mark.

Draco hugged his mother tighter and the dream shifted.

It was, Hermione surmised, during the same time period as the previous dream. Draco's height and hair were the same. Hermione's heart nearly jumped out of her chest as she realized that he was in a forest.

Before him a bewitched fire of green flame danced out of the ground making the surrounding trees appear to twist and dance in the darkness. Draco was kneeling before the flame in a small clearing. A ring of hooded men surrounded him in a circle. Ten masked death eaters stood nearer the fire and Voldemort.

As Draco continued kneeling Voldemort said something she could not hear. Then, Lucious who stood on Voldemort's right stepped up and gripped Draco's right wrist, drawing back the sleeve of his robes. The pale skin of Draco's bare forearm seemed to glow in the darkness.

Draco flinched as Voldemort extended a grey skinned finger to touch his forearm, etching the outline of a snake and skull into his flawless skin. Hermione watched Draco grit his teeth as the mark smoked, the smell of burnt flesh filled the forest.

Horror-struck she continued to watch as Voldemort traced the mark, it filled itself in magically with black and green ink. The serpent writhed and slithered through the mouth of the skull as it came into being on Draco's arm. Hermione could see the silent agony on Draco's face and wanted to cry out to him, to shield him from the pain of it.

When he was finished, Voldemort pressed the palm of his boney grey hand to the mark and pulled Draco to his feet by it. Draco, still silent in his pain lumbered to his feet.

"Now boy, you are a Deatheater. From this day until you die you swear your loyalty and your life to me and no other." He gripped Draco's head and forced him to lock directly in his eyes.

In the next moment, Hermione was startled by Voldemort as he shrieked with fury. Draco was immediately wrapped in thick braided black ropes that glistened like snake scales in the moonlight night.

Then, Voldemort struck with blinding swiftness. A jet of green light flashed from his wand and hit Severus Snape in the chest. "No!" Draco bellowed, but he was bound tightly, unable to move to help his Godfather. Snape fell backwards and writhed on the ground under the pain of the cruciatus curse.

Voldemort's shrill, high pitched voice filled the still night air.

"Traitor!" Voldemort roared and raised his wand. His features were contorted in rage. The death eaters on either side of him cowered further into the darkness as Voldemort moved closer to the now still form of Snape.

"Who else, Severus?" He cooed with deceptive quite. He knelt beside Snape and used a gnarled finger to brush the hair almost tenderly from his eyes.

"Ah, Severus, my most loyal, most trusted, most devoted Deatheater. You will die tonight. But, if _you_ have betrayed me…who else? Who else here has done the same?"

He swept around as he spoke these last words, looking at his Deatheaters, who were by now cowering near the trees that ringed the clearing as if ready to flee.

"Surely not you Marks?" Marks fell to his knees crying out that he was loyal to his lord.

Voldemort went on as if the man had said nothing

"…or you McNair, Riggins, Craine?" All the men he named fell face down in the underbrush of the forest as Marks had done, shouting that they were loyal Deatheaters and had not betrayed the Dark Lord. Voldemort spoke over them without pause his voice an angry hiss.

"… Perhaps, someone less loyal, less devoted, newer… more…corruptible."

A jet of green light flew out of his wand and Draco was catapulted through the air and landed, still bound, on the ground near Snape.

"My Lord!" Lucious stepped forward, "He is innocent of treachery, he-" .

"Someone younger, weaker!" Screamed Voldemort, his anger peeking again as he cut off Lucious without sparing him a glance.

He cast the cruciatus at the two men lying on the forest floor and both contorted wildly for a full minute.

Hermione thought she'd die from the agony of watching Draco endure such horrendous torture. The cruciatus curse was, in essence, a transfiguration of hatred into pain. The casters hate transfigured and manifested into pain on the body of the victim.

Hermione knew that the hatred that Voldemort could muster would be more intense, more painful than what any normal, sane witch or wizard could deliver.

Her eyes filled with tears and her knees failed to support her, she sank to the damp forest floor, still unable to take her eyes off of the two men as they writhed in agony against the wet leaves and forest debris. Finally Voldemort lifted his wand.

"Speak, Draco." He cooed almost lovingly, stroking the tip of his wand across Draco's forehead, "Tell me you have not betrayed me! Tell me it is only Severus who has been working for the Order and I shall spare you, I will even let you kill Snape yourself."

"My Lord!" Lucious cried again taking a step toward the three wizards in the center of the clearing. "He is no traitor, he would never betray-" Lucious was slammed backward against a thick tree trunk with a flick of Voldemort wand.

"Silence!" Voldemort spat. Then his voice, changed back to a silky beguiling tone again, "I will have it from the boy." Voldemort bent over Draco who inhaled and exhaled rapidly on the thick mat of forest floor, still trying to catch his breath after the torture he had endued.

"Such a good looking, pure blooded boy," Voldemort caressed Draco's cheek with his boney livid hand. "Surely he would not do such a thing."

Draco attempted to sit up but was unable to do so with the thick black ropes that bound him. Voldemort stepped away from him and flicked his wand again, instantly the ropes fell away. Draco rolled onto his stomach and rose to his hands and knees still gasping for breath. Bits of wet twigs, leaves and dirt clung to his clothing and hair.

He was about to rise to his feet when Voldemort pulled back his own sleeve, exposing his dark mark. He pressed his ghastly finger to the mark. Immediately all of the Deatheaters, Draco and Snape included cried out in pain, clutching the marks on their forearms, dropping to their knees if they weren't there already.

"I said speak boy!" Voldemort raged.

Draco, again on his hands and knees rose his head defiantly. Pain and fury was etched on his pale face. "He-was-not-alone!" He ground out through his gritted teeth.

"DRACO!" His father and godfather yelled in unison, the former in shock and the latter as warning not to confess, to save himself.

"The Order knows about your master plan. The two of us may die here tonight, but the Order will finish you, mark my words. They will stop you because they're stronger…and you are a madman." The words boomed in the cold forest air like cannon fire.

Voldemort's eyes gleamed red and seemed to narrow into slits as he raised his wand. Just as he was set to slash down with it and end Draco's life a bolt of red light erupted from the tree line at one side of the clearing.

The spell was deflected by Voldemort but no sooner did he shield himself form the curse than dozens more shot out from different directions all around him. The air was suddenly filled with shrieks of pain and hexes being cast. Order members and aurors clashed with death eaters in streams of white and black smoke. Draco ran to shield Snape and pull the older man to cover. The Order of the Phoenix had finally arrived.

The battle raged for twenty minutes or so. Enough time elapsed for Draco and Snape both to recover themselves and enter the fray on the side of the Order. Finally as casualties mounted on both sides, Harry engaged Voldemort.

The two wizards battled in the center of the fighting, each side covered the other from aiding either wizard. Spells filled the air, but the mammoth power behind the curses that flew between Harry and Voldemort was like a stellar light show. Another ten minutes of battle and it seemed that Harry was gaining the upper hand.

Suddenly from the side of the clearing Lucious leapt forward, his wand raised at Harry, who's sole focus and attention were on Voldemort. An instant later, Draco blocked his fathers shot at Harry and a jet of green light exploded from his wand into Lucious. In an instant Draco's father lay on the ground, dead at his son's feet, his eye still wide with shock.

Snape was pulling Draco to the ground just as Voldemort hissed something in parsletounge and whipped his wand in an odd arch. Harry winced as blood stained the front of his shirt. But then ignoring the injury, he stood and refocused his attention. With a final mighty effort he cast the killing curse at Voldemort and in a flash of light the maniac lay in a crumpled heap on the ground, dead.

Hermione started to run toward Harry and Draco, then reminding herself that this was all a dream memory, she reconnected with her physical body, almost not believing the events she had just witnessed had happened two long years ago. She felt Draco's hand warm and living in hers. She exited the memory to find herself laying partially across him as she knelt at his bedside.

Overcome for a moment, her eyes filled with tears and she clutched him in a fierce hug. Then not wanting him to relive the nightmare any longer than he had already, she gently shook him until he was awake.

He bolted upright, his skin clammy and his breathing rapid. He nearly knocked her to the floor as he awoke with a start. His skin was clammy and his breathing was rapid and shallow. He looked around with unseeing eyes for a few moments, then, his eyes rested on her. Hermione took in the haunted vacant look in his eyes and waited until moments passed and he seemed to really see her. When she knew he was truly awake, and he was actually seeing her, he pulled her against him in a bone jarring hug, crushing her against him as he buried his face in her neck.

Hermione hugged him back, rubbing her arms gently up and down his back and shoulders until he seemed to recover somewhat. When his hold on her slackened some, she pulled away to look at him again, cupping his face in her hands.

"Draco, I-I never knew. Why, why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell anybody?" Draco closed his eyes as if the question would go away.

"It doesn't matter now, Hermione. The war is over. What is past is done."

"No, Draco, it's not." Hermione said firmly. "You have never been recognized for your work during the war. People still think of the Malfoy's as a Deatheater family. You were as much a hero as any other Order member, more so, because of the danger of working so close to Voldemort!"

"Hermione! Don't." He had a hard edge to his voice and Hermione knew it was not the time to push him. She let the matter drop.

"It was the dream Draco, it was the dream with the curse. You saw it, you just didn't realize it because you were so focused on…your…on Lucious." Her eyes met his and she knew this was another subject he was not willing to discuss right now. He had killed his own father to save Harry Potter.

She leaned forward and hugged him for a long moment again, because he looked like he needed hugging. He encircled her with his arms and they lay there silently for a few minutes.

"I have to floo to Bills. He and the other curse breakers will need to get right to work on the counter curse. They'll need to see the memory as soon as possible. Bill Weasley has a pensive at his flat and-"

As she spoke Hermione stood and took a step toward his fireplace.

"Like hell your going to Weasley's dressed like that!" Draco said standing up and giving her an _over my dead body_ kind of look.

He turned and strode from the room, returning seconds later with a set of his over robes. He pulled them around her and buttoned them together securely. She tried not to smile at his disgruntled expression as she picked up the too long robes so she could step into the fireplace with her floo powder.

"Bill Weasley's flat!" She shouted and in a blur of green Draco was gone.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"Like hell your going to Weasleys' dressed like that!" Draco said standing up looking disproving.

He turned and strode from the room, returning seconds latter with a set of his over robes. He pulled them around her and buttoned them together securely. She tried not to smile at his disgruntled expression as she picked up the too long robes so she could step into the fireplace with her floo powder. "Bill Weasley's flat!" She shouted and in a blur of green Draco was gone.

Hermione knocked on the door of Malfoy manor. It felt like forever since she had been here, but in truth it had only been three days. She'd met with Bill Weasley and the team of curse breakers he worked with to research and refine a counter curse for Harry.

After a full day of research and preparation they had been ready to administer the counter curse and antidote. They had hurried to Harry's bed at St. Mungo's. Harry had been in the hospital for the previous two days. The wound had finally ceased to disappear and Harry now had to remain in the hospital so that healers could keep it from constantly bleeding. Hermione knew that Harry would die in days if this did not work.

Bill performed the counter curses as Hermione and Ginny took turns ladling the antidote potion into Harry's mouth. The change had not been as instantaneous as she would have hoped.

They took turns keeping careful watch over him for any signs that would indicate healing. In the end she, Ginny and Bill had fallen asleep in chairs at Harry's bedside.

This morning she'd woken to bright sunlight coming through the hospital window. She'd been shocked to see her friend sitting up in bed, tucking in to bangers and eggs. She had pounced on him, ripping his shirt up to see the wound on his chest. It was gone, not even a scar remained. Ginny had woken up just then and given Hermione a "what the hell are you doing" look until she too realized that Harry was sitting up on his own.

They had laughed and cried and hugged him until he complained that he couldn't breathe. As soon as the healers had announced that the counter curse was a success and Harry would be okay, she'd felt it was safe to leave him in his wife's care.

Harry was weak from the long toll the curse had taken on his body, but with time and rest he would make a complete recovery.

Her relief seemed to pull every ounce of energy out of her. The adrenaline she had been functioning on over the last three days deserted her completely and all she wanted to do was sleep.

Without thinking she found herself at Malfoy manor. Moments before in the apparition area of St. Mungo's, all she could think of was safe, home and asleep. After she apparated, she had expected to open her eyes at the door of her flat, but she found herself here at Malfoy Manor at six am.

She smiled and knocked on the door. Chunky answered displaying her usual exuberance at Hermione's appearance.

Chunky led her up to her rooms with a promise to return with a meal as soon as she was ready. Hermione bathed and changed into muggle jeans and a brown cotton shirt. She couldn't think of food or sleep until she saw the person she had been thinking about since she'd left this house.

She walked over to the door that connected her room to Draco's and knocked twice before stepping into the room. It was just beginning to be light outside and the dusky room was still and silent. Hermione looked to the bed to see a jumble of sheets and blankets, but no occupant.

Hermione exited the room and wandered from room to room searching for Draco. Finally she caught sight of silvery blonde hair through the drawing room window. Draco was there in the garden sitting on a stone bench.

Without hesitation Hermione walked out to the place where he sat. She knew he had to hear her approaching, fallen leaves and gravel crunched under her feet as she walked, but his back remained to her as he sat with his elbows on his knees, looking straight forward.

When she was almost directly behind him her breath caught. She had been so intent on reaching him she hadn't thought to look at what he was so focused on. There in the shadow of a young sapling tree was a small rectangular black marble headstone. The gilt lettering read, _Narcissa_ _Malfoy, My beloved mother. _Hermione stopped walking, she felt terrible intruding on his quite solitude at his mothers grave. Before she could turn and leave he spoke.

"Your back." His back was still to her.

"Yes, I'm sorry to intrude, I didn't realize…I'll see you back up at the house-" Hermione said, turning to go.

"No, don't go." He said turning slightly to look at her. His grey gaze had a desperate quality that rooted her to the spot. Her heart skipped a beat and it dawned on her she'd needed to see him just as desperately as he seemed to need to see her.

The past three days had been exhausting, but she couldn't sleep until she had a chance to talk with Draco. She saw that he looked pale and, once again, had dark smudges beneath his eyes. She came to sit beside him on the black marble bench facing the headstone.

She looked at the gold lettering on the tombstone, not quite knowing what to say. Instead she reached between them and grabbed his hand in both of hers, pulling their joined hands onto her lap as she rested her head on his shoulder.

After several minutes of comfortable silence Draco heaved a sigh and spoke.

"He killed her." Hermione lifted her head and looked at his profile, waiting patiently as he said what he needed to say.

"I've never told anyone that; never said it out loud before. It happened the night Harry killed Voldemort."

"It, the memory of it was consuming me. I dreamed that dream, the one in the forest and the death of my mother night after night. I had tried everything to stop it; dreamless sleep potions, sleeping draughts, alcohol. I finally found something that worked."

He closed his eyes, tilting his bead back on his neck. "When you and Bill Weasley showed up that day I thought you were there to arrest me for it." He ran a hand through his hair in agitation then sighed, slumping his shoulders in defeat.

"Draco, what? What did you do?"

"The day before you arrived I used a spell. A _dark _spell, to collect those memories and place them in vials."

Hermione looked at him quizzically, shaking her head as she said, "Draco, dark magic is not required to gather memories for pensieve vials."

"Not just collect, Hermione. The spell is like a memory modification charm, but more precise. I pulled those memories from my head like one siphons off poison. I had no recollection of those events once they were removed into the vial. The spell removed them from my memory completely."

When Hermione still looked perplexed he sighed in frustration and pulled a pouch out of his pocket. He unfolded it and gave it to her. The clink f glass sounded as she took it. Inside were two vials with wisps of memory and a piece of parchment. She took the paper out and read it:

_Mother is dead, father beat her so badly she died of her injuries when I was late for my Dark Mark ceremony. Father is dead. You killed him to avenge her. These vials contain those memories. I have used the deleo memora charm to erase them from my memory. They have haunted me in my dreams and during my waking hours for two years. They have made me miserable. I can't relive them anymore, its time to let them go and move on. If you are wise, you will never attempt to view these memories, they can only bring you anguish, anger and pain._

_Draco Malfoy _

"I wrote myself that letter to read after the spell was done. Once the spell was performed I only knew the facts that I had written on that scrap of parchment. I had no living memory of them or what circumstance in which they occurred. My ignorance was bliss and in retrospect, it was the only good thing in my life that ever came out of using a dark spell."

"When you and Weasley showed up from the Ministry, I had only performed the spell the night before. I thought perhaps the Ministry had put a dark detection tracer on my wand or something."

"When you asked to look at my memories it occurred to me that the memory you were looking for was the one that I had removed, but I doubted it. You were looking for the fight with Potter and Voldemort, not me and my father. When you scanned my memory and still didn't find what you were looking for, well the possibility that the memory was one and the same as what was in the vials started to nag at me.

I didn't want to believe that this final battle memory you were seeking was the memory I had gone through so much trouble to conceal from myself.

After the last few weeks of your searching my memories unsuccessfully, I couldn't deny it anymore. It became clear to me that those vials had to contain what you were looking for or at least had to be eliminated as a possibility."

"Draco," Hermione said, softly and to his surprise sympathetically. "Why did you have to view them? They were so painful; why didn't you just give them to me to look at?"

Draco's jaw clenched and he turned his somber silver eyes to her. "I had to view the memories first. I couldn't give them to you without knowing what it contained, Hermione. It was a major moment of my life that I had no recollection of. I realized that I was hiding from myself, from my past. Even after those memories were removed, I still had nightmares every night, so really, I wasn't much better off." He stopped, suddenly looking like a man at the end of a long journey. Tired, but relieved that it was all over.

"I planned on giving you the memories in the morning, but, as luck would have it the nightmares started again that very night." Draco's smile was sarcastic, self loathing even.

"What you saw last night was only portions of the whole. The actual memory is more detailed and I want you to hear it all, if you're willing to listen."

Hermione nodded mutely, knowing he needed to tell her his story more than she needed to hear it, but glad to listen if it helped him even a little bit.


	9. Chapter 9

I was supposed to meet my father here at the manor, we were supposed to apparate together to the forest for the ceremony where I would take the mark

"I was supposed to meet my father here at the manor, we were supposed to apparate together to the forest for the ceremony where I would take the mark."

Draco lapsed into silence again. Hermione was on the verge of encouraging him to continue when he began to speak again.

"Moody was my contact with the Order. I had to inform him when I was to take the mark and let him know where Voldemort and the Deatheaters would be. The plan was for them to ambush Voldemort before he was able to mark me. The Order was afraid that once I had the mark, Voldemort would be able to read my mind because I was not as proficient at occlumency as Snape."

He paused again, looking up at the brightening sky.

"Our meeting went long, Moody wanted to make sure he had all of the details right."

Draco stopped again and this time Hermione knew he was fighting to control his feelings. When he spoke again his voice was thick with emotion.

"When I arrived home, Chunky ran out to meet me saying something terrible had happened to mother. When she led me to the drawing room mother was there, on the floor, cut and bleeding. He'd beaten her and cursed her almost to death. She begged me with her dying breath not to take the mark. She said she wanted to save me from the cursed life of a Deatheater, wanted me to be something better, something clean, good.

I-I told her I was a member of the Order. I told her I had been since the beginning of the war. I promised her I wouldn't take the mark, that I would never be a Deatheater that I would never be like my father. Then I held her in my arms as she died. I buried her here, in the garden she loved so much.

"Chunky told me what happened. My father had been in a rage when I was late arriving. Mother had taunted him, telling him that I had run off. She told him that I refused to take the mark and she supported me in my decision. I think she was mortified that she had been bullied into encouraging me to take the mark the day before, even if it was only a ruse while my father was spying on our conversation. She was weary of the abuse the spying, and the whole life as the wife of a Deatheater.

She was frantic at the thought of me taking the mark. I think she was willing to die rather than stand by and watch me marked. She must have thought that my father hurting her was the one thing that would cause me to rebel and refuse the dark mark." He lowered his head, gripping his hair in his hands in silent grief.

Hermione stood to stand in front of him, between his legs as he sat on the bench. Her arms enveloped him, holding his head to her breast as a silent tear fell from his eye. He wrapped his arms around her waist squeezing her tightly.

"When I apparated to the forest Voldemort was not there yet," He went on after a few minutes,

"Lucious flew at me in a rage. He thought I had run away. He said if he had told Voldemort I had run off rather than take the mark all of our lives would be forfeit." Draco scoffed. "He had no idea mother was already dead. That she had died as a result of the injuries he'd inflicted on her. I didn't give him the satisfaction of knowing it either."

"My hands burned to be around his throat even then, but I knew the Order had planned an ambush. I couldn't act on him yet. It was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life, not to kill him right then; after I had just buried my mother who had died at his hands.

To look at that murdering bastard and apologize for being late while my mother's body was lying in a fresh grave almost killed me. I made a petty excuse to placate him and waited for the battle that was coming."

Hermione kissed the top of his head, feeling the raw pain and anger emanating off of him as if these events had happened yesterday. Giving him another squeeze, she released him to sit back down beside him, once again taking his right hand in both of hers on her lap. His fingers gripped hers tightly as he continued speaking.

"Voldemort arrived before my father could…punish me for being late. The ceremony started, but something went wrong. The Order was supposed to attack before Voldemort could place the mark on me. I waited for the attack to begin, but, when Voldemort's finger touched my arm I realized it was too late and something must have gone wrong.

All I could think of was my mother, begging me not to take that mark and me, only hours earlier assuring her as she died that I would never take it. I'd told her that I would never be a Deatheater like my father, her murder."

Hermione unconsciously traced her fingertips up his forearm where Hermione now noticed the faintest outline of what had been the dark mark.

His hand instantly flew to cover his forearm, guarding it from her touch.

"No," she said quietly, but firmly. "Don't hide it. May I see?" Her eyes were open and her deep chocolate gaze held his, her expression begging him to trust her. He looked at her with indecisiveness, then finally sighed and relaxed his arm in her lap, his palm facing upward.

She bent her head to scrutinize what was left of Voldemort's mark on Draco's otherwise smooth flesh.

The outline was still visible on his arm. His flesh was puckered into hair-fine ridges, forming a colorless scar, like an inkless tattoo. But unlike wizard tattoos, it no longer moved or undulated. The flesh colored outline of the serpent no longer slithered or hissed out of the mouth of the inkless skull. He flinched a bit when she touched it with the tip of her finger.

"What happened to it?" He didn't need for her to explain what she was asking.

"When Potter killed him, it…burned, worse than it did when he was marking me. I couldn't move, couldn't focus on anything but the pain. When I pulled my sleeve back to look at it I expected to find my arm on fire or the flesh ripped away, it hurt that bad. Instead, the ink was beading up on top of my skin and dripping out of the mark, like black and green sweat. It continued until there was nothing left but the scar.

No magic has been able to heal it or remove it. It's a cursed scar. I guess Potter and I finally have something in common anyway." He said with a sardonic laugh.

Hermione unexpected brought his arm to her lips and gently kissed the scar. Draco jerked his arm from her lips, His eyes snapped to her face in alarm. "Don't Hermione. It's a foul reminder of him. I can hardly stand to look at it, let alone have you do that."

"Draco, I know you think that this scar represents everything you hate; Voldemort, Lucious, and the day your mother died. You seem to think it means you were a Deatheater. Don't you understand? It represents your strength."

"You survived all of that. You avenged your mothers' death by ensuring that the men responsible for it died the same night that she did. You fought against them and you are still here. You beat them, Draco. This scar proves that. This mark didn't make you a Deatheater because you didn't want to be one. You fought against taking it and only did so as a means to destroy Voldemort."

"It's a part of who you are. Now and forever. Don't hate it, Draco. It's your reminder of what you have endured. You've paid your dues. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to finally have some peace."

Draco looked at her and Hermione thought she could see the understanding of her perspective dawning in his eyes. He looked at the faint scares scratched into his arm and rubbed them briefly as if seeing and feeling them for the first time. He smiled at her weakly and leaned over to kiss her forehead gently. "Thank you." He whispered.

"What happened? I mean, after you got the mark- Voldemort, he got so angry all of the sudden." Hermione asked.

"Well, you know that with occlumency we compartmentalize memories to guard against Legilimency. I had studied with Severus since I left Hogwarts and my defenses were very good. But they weren't good enough to keep out Voldemort after I was marked."

"Severus had once told me that the mark facilitated and intensified Voldemort's use of legilimency on his Deatheaters. He'd explained to me that his only protection was that he used occlumency at all times, even in his sleep his thoughts were compartmentalized and contained."

"I had not imagined I would actually be taking the mark. Belatedly I realized I needed to compose myself. To use occlumency and hide my anger and turmoil or Voldemort would see everything."

I worked through the pain as he branded me. The first, the most vital thing for me to contain was that the Order was to ambush the ceremony, just in case they were still out there and had been delayed in striking. Surprise was the only thing they had on their side. It was imperative to hide that knowledge from Voldemort."

No sooner than I had finished containing that information did Voldemort finish with the mark. He immediately used legilimency to barge into my thoughts. It was all I could do to keep the information about the ambush contained. He saw everything else and knew instantly that Severus and I had been working for the Order."

Draco ran both hands through his hair, agitated at the memory.

"Voldemort wanted me to renounce my godfather and kill him then he would have killed me. I hated him almost as much as I hated my father, maybe more. Voldemort was just as responsible for my mother's misery and death as my father."

"I knew I didn't have the means to kill him, but I hoped that the Order and Harry would. Just when I expected him to kill me the fighting started, I forgot about my hatred of my father, all I could think about was getting Severus out of the line of fire. We were able to join the fighting after a while."

"In a short time, only a few Deatheaters remained standing. I admit I became transfixed for a moment, watching Potter fight Voldemort. He was truly amazing. I was able to hope for the first time, watching Potter, that Voldemort really could be killed."

"When my father sprinted out of nowhere, pointing his wand at Potters back, I reacted instinctively. How very like my father to try a cheap shot to the back. I couldn't let him kill Potter. I jumped between him and Potter without thinking. The look of surprise on fathers face was the last thing that struck me as I hexed him."

"I didn't have a single regret, a single hesitation. I've never regretted it or his death to this day; I just didn't want to relieve it every night anymore. I had to move on. Watching my mother die every night in my dreams was tearing me apart. Like losing her again and again, the pain was as fresh in my dreams as it was that night."

"I'm sorry Hermione. Sorry that I was in denial about the memories being what you were looking for. Sorry I cost Potter time and pain. Most of all I am sorry for not telling you about the memory sooner.

"Draco, thank you. I understand why you did what you did, and as much as I am glad Harry is safe I am so sorry you had to reopen those memory vials."

He shook his head. "No, Hermione, it's better this way. I can't run from my past. I just have to face it and work though it like everyone else. No hiding, not anymore."

At this point Draco stood, offering her his hand. He led her out of the garden in silence and into the house. When they entered the drawing room, Draco stood wearily in front of the fireplace, idly running a finger along the underside of the mantle piece.

"Hermione," Draco said looking at her with an odd look in his eyes. "I'm glad you know everything. I want you to understand what happened in the forest that night. That's why I didn't run up to the Ministry to demand my hero title. Being called a hero is not why I did any of what I did.

I've really only done what I could to make up for the wrong things I've done in my life. You know what I was like at Hogwarts. I'm not a hero and I'm by no means perfect.

He sighed as he looked at her, his grey gaze full of vulnerability married with intensity. It unnerved her to see such a look on his face.

"And these last three days you've been gone have been torture." He gave her a lopsided self conscious smile that made her heart ache.

"I don't know what to do with myself, I can't eat, can't concentrate on my work. Hermione, you can stop me anytime here if you don't want me to say what I'm about to say."

He pushed away from the mantle and came closer until he stood directly in front of her. He put a long finger under her chin to tilt her head up, making sure she looked at him."

"What I'm saying is…I want you."

He kissed her then, a slow seductive kiss that made her insides feel all fiery. His arms slid around her waist, pulling her to him.

"I want you in my life, Hermione. I want a chance at whatever this is between us. At making it better; stronger, maybe making it forever." He licked his lips unconsciously and waited for her to reply.

Hermione's heart thudded in her chest. Her eyes searched the clear grey depths of his. She saw no barriers, no cool aloof exterior, no teasing. She saw him then for exactly what he was. A man, strong, flawed, human, beautiful and vulnerable in equal measures. She put a hand to his cheek, feeling the coarse new growth of beard there. She couldn't believe how incredibly open and honest this man; who could be the king of inscrutability, was being for her.

As if reading her thoughts he added jokingly, "Of course I could play it cool and not tell you all of this up front. But you can read my mind, so it seems silly to bother with all that."

Hermione giggled and leaned into him, throwing her arms around his neck to hug him tightly.

"Draco, I have never met anyone like you before in my life. You say you aren't a hero, but you are as courageous as any hero I've ever known."

"You've been through so much, and what's more, you've been through it alone. I've seen so much of what your past first hand in your memories and I respect your strength. I want to be with you too. I want to give us, a chance and see where we end up." She caressed his cheek again and his eyes turned molten with need.

She reached up to kiss him softly, her lips molding to his. What she started so gently he took and as moments passed his kisses became more ardent, more demanding. His fingers woven themselves into her silky hair and his mouth hungrily tasted every part of hers.

Her fingers tangled into his hair and she moaned into his mouth as his hands came around her front to cup her through her shirt. Her back arched reflexively and a shudder ran through her.

Draco tore his mouth from hers, breathing hard and began planting a trail of hot kisses down her neck. His tongue swiped and tasted the tender skin at the base of her neck and her pulse intensified. She rubbed her check against the soft silk of his hair as he explored the skin of her neck. Meanwhile his hands on her breasts teased through the fabric of her shirt and bra. Just when Hermione thought she would go insane, Draco moved his hands to her waist and broke away from her, resting his forehead against hers, his eyes closed and his breathing uneven, he said.

"Hermione, we have to stop…Merlin I have never been more sorry to be honorable in my life, but we need to slow down."

Hermione smiled and shifted position as she bent forward and kissed his neck seductively, a small thrill ran through her when she heard his sharp intake of breath.

"Hermione, are you trying to kill me?" He breathed. But his hand slid up to the back of her neck to keep her from moving for a moment before they fell back down to his sides. "You said you wanted to wait until we get married. I can wait, but you have to stop doing that!"

Hermione let her hands slide down from around his neck to splay against his chest, rubbing the hard planes of his shoulders as she did so. Draco flexed his hips forward reflexively at her touch and she felt the hard evidence of his desire against her abdomen.

"I never said I want to wait until after marriage, Draco." She whispered seductively in his ear as he squirmed, enjoying the effect she was having on him. I said I wanted to wait but I didn't finish."

"What I meant was I wanted to wait until I was in a serious committed relationship." She kissed the shell of his ear and sucked his earlobe into her mouth. "And, I am very, very serious right now Draco when I say I want you to make love to me."

Draco made a growling sound deep in his chest. "Uhm,"

His hands, which he'd been keeping balled into fists at his sides, now slide up her back as she kissed his ear and neck. Finally he pulled away from her and cupped her face in his hands. He looked at her searching her eyes for understanding.

"Hermione, I don't want you to have any regrets when I make love to you. You have to be sure that this is what you want. I don't want you to feel like were rushing into anything."

Hermione bent forward and kissed him at the same time she reached her hand between them and pressed it against his erection. "Please Draco," she whispered, "Make love to me." and he was lost.

He kissed her skillfully, heightening her excitement. She felt a squeezing sensation and the next thing she knew she found herself on Draco's massive carved wooden bed where he had apparated them from the sofa in the drawing room.

Draco was a skillful lover and he made slow passionate love to her, delaying his own pleasure to increase hers. Hermione marveled in the effect she had on Draco, she had never felt so sensual and powerful at the same time. A long while after their passion climaxed for the third time they lay spent in each others arms, limbs intertwined and bodies sated.

"You know, everyone is going to go mad when they hear about us together, don't you?" Hermione mused.

"I don't give two sickles what anyone thinks." Draco said, toying with a few strands of her hair as her head lay across his chest.

"Brilliant answer." She said, smiling approvingly and kissing the center of his bare chest.

Long moments passed and Draco thought she might have drifted off to sleep when her voice, sounding quite, sleepy and a bit hesitant asked,

"Draco?"

"Hmmm?"

"What did you mean when you said you could wait until we get married?"

Draco paused and thought back. Had he said that? Damn, he had let that slip out in his passion clouded state of mind.

"Well," he answered, pulling her up so her head rested on his shoulder where he could see her eyes. "I didn't mean to say that."

Hermione couldn't hide the disappointment in her eyes.

"But it's what I was thinking. I admitted to myself how much I missed you during the time you were gone. I felt so…incomplete, so lonely, not for company, but for you.

You've made such a difference in my life. I never want to go back to life without you. I know I want you with me…forever. I expect it hasn't been long enough for us to talk about marriage just yet. I don't want to scare you off. But as far as I am concerned, all I need is time to convince you that we belong together."

"Draco, I-I don't know what to say." She said, her eyes wet with unshed tears.

"That, Love," Draco drawled as he kissed the tip of her nose and shifted positions to look down at her, "Is because you need a bit more convincing, which I am prepared to continue for just as long as it takes." He kissed her lips with an insistent passion that stirred her senses once again.

Hermione sighed as he kissed her neck and wondered if she ought to just agree to marry him now. She, like he, knew it was only a matter of time.


End file.
